Silas’s gaze returned to the fresh flowers.
“But radios don’t bring daisies.”
He was right.
I stepped into the hallway and called my supervisor. I explained what I had found without making assumptions. A child had arrived at a house where no guardian appeared to be present. The exits were partly obstructed, and there were unanswered questions about who had recently been inside.
My supervisor contacted the family services liaison and asked me to remain with Silas until we reached his father or grandmother.
When I returned to the hidden room, Silas was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He had not opened another letter.
He simply rested his hand on the quilt.
“Do you think she’s alive?” he asked.
There are questions children ask because they want information.
And then there are questions they ask because the answer will divide their life into everything that came before and everything that comes after.
