Free Blackberry Winter: A Novel by Sarah Jio

aisle, and you can find everything else over by the wall.”
    Homicides.
    I eyed the shelves stacked with boxes, trying not to imagine the grim artifacts they might hold.
Bloodstained clothing. Murder weapons. Bones.
I shuddered. “Thank you,” I said, walking toward a shelf labeled MISSING PERSONS .
    “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything,” the officer said, turning to the door. But a moment later he looked back at me. “You’re a good person to try to find that kid.”
    I shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”
    With the assistance of a nearby ladder, I pulled a few boxes down from the shelf and thumbed through their files until I reached the R section. A thorough look produced nothing, and I climbed down the ladder disheartened.
How could he just vanish without a single record?
    I eyed the top shelf. Had I missed something? I ascended the ladder again, scanning the shelf carefully for a box of importance. I shook my head. They were all alphabetical, and there was just one box for the letter R.
What if one was mislabeled?
I opened up thenext box, labeled S. Nothing. Then I tried the box with a Q on it. At the very back, two R records waited.
They must have been misfiled.
I pulled out the first, read it, then set it aside. But my fingers froze when, on the second record, I came across the typewritten name of little Daniel Ray.
    Vera Ray, of Seattle, reports that her son, Daniel Ray, disappeared. He was last seen at the residence of 4395 Fifth Avenue, #2. Suspected runaway.
    How could they be so quick to write him off as a runaway? Children don’t run away at age three. He was only a baby.
No, there had to be another explanation.
    I wrote down the address, then riffled through the file, eager to find more information, but after an hour, nothing turned up. I walked back out to the hallway, where the officer walked me upstairs. “Find anything?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” I said, looking out the doors to the snowy street. “An address.” I could only imagine what might wait there.

    I arrived back at the office at two, hoping to grab my laptop and make a few phone calls before visiting the former home of Daniel and Vera Ray. Before I could set my bag down, I nearly bumped into Cassandra.
    “Oh hi,” she said, standing in the doorway of my cubicle. She wore a silk top, and the lace of her black camisole protruded through an unfastened button.
    “Hi,” I said, wondering what she was doing there, but moreimportant, why she always looked so fresh-faced and perfect. I’d stolen a look at myself in the bathroom mirror earlier and had gasped at the dark shadows under my eyes.
    “Ethan and I just got back from lunch at Giancarlo’s, and we brought you back a doggie bag,” she said.
    Ethan and I.
    I stared at the little brown paper sack dangling from her manicured hand.
    She set the bag on my desk, then noticed the vase of tulips from Ethan. “Oh, aren’t those just gorgeous? We passed them at the Market, and I told Ethan he absolutely had to get them for you.”
    My heart sank.
So the flowers were her idea.
    “Sometimes men just need a little encouragement,” she said, twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. “Well, I’ll see you tonight, then? At the gala?”
    “Right,” I said blankly. “See you tonight.”
    “Claire,” she said, turning back to me. “You really should try that asparagus risotto. It was amazing.”
    I nodded without turning around, tossing the bag into the wastebasket under my desk as soon as I heard her footsteps receding.

    I had two hours before I needed to be dressed for the gala, so I hurried outside and tracked down a cab. I rattled off the address to the driver, wondering what I’d find when I got there. An old apartment building? Perhaps, if I was lucky, there could be an elderly resident with a memory of the storm—of little Daniel, even.
    The cab skidded to a stop, and I was too distracted digging through my purse for a ten-dollar bill to notice where we