Chapter 62

Putting on his new—well relatively new—hoodie and the watchcap, he picked up the smallest sketchpad, several pencils, and the pencil sharpener that came with them, sticking them in the hoodie’s pocket. Then, vowing he could do this, he went downstairs and left the boarding house by the back door, walking warily down the alley to the street. He didn’t breathe easily until he was in a park not too far from the boarding house.

Then, as he began sketching, he became so immersed in what he was doing his fears vanished—at least for a while.

* * * *

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Merrick snarled when the man at the other end of the call—a detective Merrick had hired because he came highly recommended—gave him the bad news late Sunday afternoon.

The detective replied, “None of the people I’ve called have heard of him. I did go by where he used to live and talked with the manager. She said he moved out a couple of months ago and she hasn’t seen him since.”