Chapter 4 - The Hunt for the Patchwork Girl
The rain had turned into a heavy, slushy snow over South Chicago three days later.
In the high-rise penthouse of Harrison Towers in downtown Boston, Richard Harrison hadn't slept in seventy-two hours.
The room was lit only by the blue glow of four massive computer monitors set up on his desk. On the screens were zoomed-in, high-definition stills from Logan Airport Security Camera 14-B.
There she was.
A thin girl in patched jeans, a faded purple backpack secured with two silver safety pins, and a bright red yarn shoelace.
"We traced the ticket purchase, Mr. Harrison," Mateo said, stepping into the office with a thick leather file in his hands. "It took some time because the mother paid in cash at the counter five minutes before departure."
Richard spun his chair around instantly. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Elena Miller," Mateo said, opening the file. "Twenty-nine years old. Formerly a certified pediatric nursing assistant at Chicago Children's Hospital. Three years ago, her husband passed away in a factory accident, leaving her with massive medical debt."
Richard’s eyes scanned the document rapidly. "And the girl?"
"Maya Miller. Seven years old," Mateo continued, his voice softening slightly. "There was a third member of the family, sir. A little boy named Leo. He was born with severe spinal muscular atrophy and required a permanent tracheostomy tube."
Richard’s heart hammered against his ribs. That was why. That was why a seven-year-old girl in patched jeans knew exactly how to unlock Ethan’s complex medical collar when trained airport personnel froze.
"Where is the boy now?" Richard asked softly.
"He passed away eleven months ago, sir," Mateo said quietly. "The family went bankrupt paying for his palliative care. Elena lost her nursing license after missing shifts to care for him at home. They’re currently living in a condemned apartment building on 114th Street in South Chicago."
Richard stood up, his face pale, his jaw set like iron.
He looked across the room. Ethan was sitting in his motorized wheelchair near the floor-to-ceiling window, drawing a picture on an iPad. On the screen was a rough sketch of a little girl with a purple backpack and a smiling robot.
"Daddy?" Ethan called out, hearing his father move. "Did you find Maya?"
Richard walked over to his son, kneeling beside his chair, placing a hand on the boy’s small knee.
"Yes, Ethan. We found her."
"Is she coming to play?" Ethan asked, his eyes full of hope. "I want to give her my shiny robot."
"We’re going to go see her right now," Richard said. He looked up at Mateo. "Get the jet ready. We’re flying to Chicago immediately."
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"Sir, weather reports show a blizzard hitting the Midwest in two hours," Mateo warned. "The roads in South Chicago are treacherous."
"I don't care if I have to walk through the snow myself," Richard said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My son’s life was saved by a child who is sleeping in a cold room tonight because this world is unfair. We leave in twenty minutes."
