Full Tilt. Rick Mofina

your sister’s file, no matter how tenuous?”

      Kate’s pulse quickened. “Yes, go ahead.”

      “We wanted to give you a heads-up about a query we recently received from law enforcement.”

      It sounded like the woman was reading from a message.

      “All right,” Kate said.

      “We were asked to check our files for a piece of jewelry concerning missing white women in their twenties.”

      “But that’s routine.”

      “It is, but in this case, Fred said that they’re asking about a necklace with a guardian angel charm.”

      Kate froze.

      Shortly before her death, Kate’s mother had given her and Vanessa each a necklace bearing a guardian angel charm. Kate had described the necklace in the file she’d submitted with missing persons organizations.

      “Does it say anything about engraving or an inscription?”

      “No.”

      “Can you give me more details, Anne?”

      “I can have someone call you.”

      “Okay, but can you tell me anything more right now?”

      “Well, we just got a message that the query went to our national office in Washington to run a search on the item, and, Kate, I’m sorry but it concerns a homicide.”

      Kate slid down into her chair.

6

      New York City

      Kate’s express train barreled north out of Penn Station.

      As she stared into the darkness, her mind raced, absorbing the call about the necklace.

       Could it be Vanessa’s?

      Contending with the ramifications and questions, she felt a knocking in her heart that turned into apprehension.

       Stop it.

       Vanessa’s dead. She died twenty years ago. Why do I put myself through this? Why do I cling to the hope that she survived? And now this: a homicide.

      The subway platforms blurred by until Kate reached her stop. That’s when her phone rang. It was Nancy Clark, her neighbor, who watched her daughter.

      “Hi, Kate, is this a bad time?”

      “No. I’m just about home. Everything okay?”

      “Oh, yes, Grace really wanted to talk to you.”

      “All right, put her on.”

      The sound of the phone being passed to Grace was followed by “Hi, Mom?”

      “Hi hon. What’s up?”

      “Mom, can I get my own phone?”

      “Oh, sweetie.”

      “But all my friends have phones.”

      “I’ll think about it. I’ll be home soon. We’ll talk about it then.”

      “Okay, Mom, love you.”

      “Love you, too.”

      Kate touched her phone to her lips and smiled.

       What a kid.

      Grace was her sun, her moon and the stars in her life. She’d taken to New York City like she was born here. She loved her school, her new friends, Central Park, the museums, everything about the city.

      Kate treasured her job with Newslead, given her long road to get to this point. It had taken a little luck and a lot of hard work, but she’d turned a corner professionally and financially.

      We’ve got a good life here. They lived in Morningside Heights in a Victorian-era building where she’d sublet an affordable two-bedroom apartment from a Columbia University professor who’d taken a sabbatical in Europe. While walking the few blocks home from the station, Kate checked for any updates from Anne Kelly at the Children’s Searchlight Network.

      Nothing.

      Kate picked up her mail in the lobby, the place where she and Grace first met Nancy Clark, a retired and widowed nurse who lived alone on the floor above them.

      She was so kind and warm she had practically adopted Kate and Grace. They had each other over for coffee and Nancy quickly insisted she look after Grace whenever Kate worked or traveled. Now, outside Nancy’s apartment, Kate noticed the aroma of fresh baking before Grace opened the door.

      “Hi, Mom! We made cookies!” Grace hugged Kate then went back to the kitchen table and collected a small tin and her backpack. “Nancy says I can take them home.”

      “Okay,” Kate said. “Thanks for this, Nancy.”

      “Anytime. We had fun. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

      * * *

      At home Kate and Grace each had a cookie while settling in before supper. As usual, Grace emptied her school backpack on the coffee table. Kate set aside the mail, fired up her laptop to review emails, then changed into jeans to prepare chicken tacos, rice and salad. Before setting the table, Kate checked her phone again.

      Nothing from the Searchlight Network.

      “Mom, did you think some more about my phone?” Grace asked while biting into her taco.

      “Still thinking on it, hon.”

      “Maybe we could look on your computer for a good one?”

      “Not so fast, kiddo.” Kate smiled.

      After supper, Kate helped Grace with her book report on Horton Hears a Who!

      “Mom, who do you like better, the Cat in the Hat or Horton the Elephant?”

      “Well, the Cat creates a lot of mischief whereas Horton tries to help people, so I guess Horton, for that reason.”

      “The Cat’s a lot of fun, though.”

      “Yes, but he leaves a big mess.”

      Later, when Kate got Grace into the tub for her bath, Kate’s phone rang. The number was blocked. Kate left the bathroom door open and kept an eye on Grace, who was singing to herself as she splashed. Kate moved down the hall to take the call out of earshot.

      “Hello?”

      “Kate Page?”

      She didn’t recognize the man’s voice.

      “Yes, who’s calling?”

      “Detective Ed Brennan, Rampart Police, Rampart, New York. I got your name and number from the flyer you’d submitted to the Children’s Searchlight Network.”

      Kate caught her breath and tightened her grip on her phone.

      “Yes.”

      “My call concerns your listing of a necklace your six-year-old sister was in possession of when she was presumed to have drowned after an auto accident in Canada, twenty years ago.”

      “Yes.”

      “Could you go over the details of the necklace for me?”

      “Now?”

      “Yes.”

      Kate cleared her throat.

      “A month before our mother died, she gave Vanessa and me each a tiny guardian angel necklace with our names engraved on the charms. Vanessa wanted to trade them, so she wore the one with my name on it and I kept the angel bearing her name.”

      “So, except for the engraving, they’re identical?”