When Leighton stepped out of the station building, a yellow cab pulled up and Angela Blanchette climbed out of the shuddering vehicle and hurried over to him.
‘Angela, what’s going on?’ Leighton asked.
‘You never got back to me,’ she said, frantically, ‘so I thought I’d come down and find out what the hell is going on. I can’t just sit there and do nothing – it’s killing me.’
‘I get that.’ Leighton nodded. ‘Listen, I need you to come with me right now.’ Leighton glanced back over his shoulder at the station building.
‘Do you know where she is then?’ Angela asked.
‘I’m not sure – maybe. I think so. But we really need to go now!’
Leighton quickly led Angela to his car, and they both climbed in.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Into the country on the north-east of the city.’
‘Oh,’ was all Angela could say. She felt Leighton’s words push against the edge of the protective barrier surrounding her mind. Despite the certainty in Leighton’s voice, she almost didn’t dare to hope anymore. The last few days had taught her that to hope was very tempting but also dangerous. Hope could easily arrive full of promise and sweetness only to turn sour and leave her more broken than before. And yet this time it seemed different, as if the strength of her belief could somehow restore her lost child.
‘Do you really think that–’ she began to ask the questions, but her speech was eclipsed by a surge of aching desperation to hold her child again.
Leighton reached across, momentarily placed his hand on hers, and nodded. That was enough for Angela Blanchette who smiled and mouthed a silent plea to the universe.
As they drove out of the station and on to Mission Avenue, Leighton turned to Angela. ‘Look, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to join the dots.’
‘It’s okay,’ Angela said, ‘you seem to be the only one who tried.’
‘Let’s just hope I’m right,’ Leighton said and floored the gas pedal.