Chapter 5
I finished drying the kid and carried him up to the kitchen. Mike met me at the head of the stairs with a T-shirt in hand, and we got the shirt on the boy and took him to the kitchen table.
“Are you hungry?” I said to the boy.
The kid didn’t say anything but nodded his head.
“Mike,” I said, “do we have any soup?”
“Yes, but why soup?”
“Because he’s very thin, almost as though he hasn’t had a square meal in a while,” I said, “and if that’s the case, too much food at once might come right back up.”
“Gotcha.” There was a pause while he rummaged around in the kitchen cabinets. “Tomato or chicken noodle?”
“The latter, I think. It’ll be easier for him to digest.”
“On its way.”
“When you get it started, look up Lucinda’s number at work and dial it for me.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows everyone around here, and she might be able to stop by and possibly identify him.”
“Sure. Actually, she ought to be getting off work just about now.”