“I’ll explain my absence to Bentley if necessary.” Grabbing my purse, I put on my most obstinate expression, and he shrugged, gesturing for me to follow him out the door. “So the woman you’re meeting today used to work with Melissa?”
He nodded, moving down the hall with quick, determined strides. “Her name’s Glenda and she was at home sick when I visited the offices earlier this week. From what I hear, she’s been battling the flu for over two weeks. But she’s back today, and the moment she heard that I’d been asking about Melissa’s case files, Glenda called me. I was at West’s house at the time, but she assured me that she was prepared to help and invited me to drop by this afternoon.”
Outside the station, a cold November breeze snuck beneath my collar and a riot of shriveled brown leaves whooshed by on eddies of crisp air. I was going to have to buy a thicker coat or I’d freeze riding around on my Vespa during the winter months.
I scuttled into the passenger seat of Sean’s police cruiser, relieved to escape the biting wind. We didn’t speak as he drove through town toward the government complex, and the silence between us was both familiar and comfortable.
The lull of the road moving under the car wheels and the slow blur of buildings passing beyond my window allowed my mind to zero in on the connection between Justyn and Tilly. Tilly had told me that she was a different woman now than she’d been in the past. Did that mean that she was ashamed of things she’d done when she was a young woman? And if so, what were those things? How could she abandon her baby, leaving him helpless and alone? There was a note stating that his name was Justyn, but no explanation, just a blanket and a teddy bear to keep him company as she turned her back on him for the rest of his life.
Ten minutes into my ruminations, Sean pulled in front of a sprawling brick building in the midst of a dozen similar structures and grabbed the cardboard box from the backseat. He led me to a bland waiting room filled with outdated magazines, nervous adults, and several subdued children. Approaching the harried-looking receptionist, he showed her his badge and explained that I was assisting him with a case. While I flushed with pride over having been called Sean’s assistant, the woman gestured to a closed door to her left.
“Go on through,” she said in a weary but courteous voice. “Glenda’s down the hall. Last door on your right.”
Glenda was seated behind a desk in a minuscule office crammed with filing cabinets, photographs of smiling children, and an ancient computer. She was a homely woman with mousy brown hair and eyes the hue of roasted chestnuts. Her voice was soft and gentle and she welcomed us warmly.
“I called after I heard my friend Jillian mention Melissa’s name,” she said after introductions had been made. “I had no idea what happened to Melissa until two days ago. I’ve been out of the office for two weeks now, fighting this awful stomach bug. I’ve been watching all these classic movies on TV to try to take my mind off how bad I’ve been feeling, so I didn’t see the news reports.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “In a way, I’m glad I didn’t, because now I can remember her as she was. Melissa was a lovely person. Devoted to her job, her friends, and her family. At least, that’s my impression. We didn’t keep in touch after she moved to New York, but she couldn’t have changed too much. I can’t understand why anyone would have done this to her.”
“We believe a clue lies in one of Melissa’s case files.” Sean opened the cardboard box and grabbed Justyn’s folder while I delighted in his use of “we.” Placing the file on Glenda’s desk, he opened the cover and pointed at Justyn’s photograph. “Can you tell us anything about this boy?”
I watched Glenda bring the image closer to her face and then check the name listed in the file. She nodded empathically. “He paid us a visit. It would have been about three weeks ago. He filled out a request form to get information on his birth mother. You see, we’re not allowed to give anyone so much as a first name without permission, so I had to make sure Justyn’s mother was willing to make contact with him. He told me he remembered a nice woman from this office named Lissa or Melissa or something. Because he was a young boy when she helped him, he wasn’t sure of her name. Well, I’ve been here forever and we’ve only had one Melissa here.”
She replaced the photograph on her desk and stared at it as she continued. “The majority of our records are computerized, and I could have just looked his mother up on the spot, but Melissa’s and most of the files from that far back are still downstairs in Records. Hard copies only, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “We just don’t have the resources to enter them into the database. We’re underfunded and understaffed.”