Technically I staged this a little before Ghost Story. Some of my facts may be off as ages are vague and years between Harry starting his business to the start of book one is vague.

A lot of characters are missing from the selection. This story only contains Nick (Nicholas Christian), who is the voice of the first person narrative, Maggie, Mouse, and Harry (Hank) Carpenter. I made up a few small facts (that or got them completely wrong) so don't take all I've put as cannon. (This is fanfiction if I'm wrong)

Child's Play

Sometimes it really feels like I've done nothing with my life. I never had time for a family, girlfriends were fleeting at best, and it was all I could do to make enough money at work to get by with rent and enough food that I wasn't tempted to go digging into trashcans.

I blame the economy, really. Talk shows probably helped back in the day as well, and those had gone down the toilet with my income. Back in the day everyone was ready to hire an investigator because they thought their boyfriend was cheating on them, or their wife had a secret second family. Sure I never liked those cases much, and in most of them it was all in the client's head, but it did help keep the water on.

Specializing in lost children should have been easier. There were far more kids kidnapped each day than there were suspicious husbands or marriages falling apart. I should have been getting more business but hey, maybe people just care more about what hubby is doing on the side than junior getting his throat slashed by some crazy madman.

I had moved to the south side of Chicago some time ago for two large reasons. One, house values dropped drastically from the north side. The governor and the people then wonder why so much more crime goes on between the people struggling to live than anyone else. Maybe some money in school and welfare would help, but then again, maybe those people just can't afford better houses because of the drugs and smuggling that run rampant. Counseling and rehab would go a lot farther to stopping the gangs than a loaf of bread.

The second reason was part of the pervious. The crime rate. Chicago alone has more than double the crime rate of the whole freaking state. There are hundreds of places all over the United States that you could go to that are safer. The fact that I know that only makes up for the human cases makes Chicago a really scary place to live, even if some make a pretty penny doing it.

Yes, unlike most of the world out there, I know there are more dangers than those of men. I didn't want to know and I certainly hadn't signed up for that when I hired on a wizard what felt like many years ago now. I had been young then, in better shape than I was now and barely past thirty. I had learned a lot in those few years with him and found that there were just some children out there I had no hope of getting back.

In all that time, I don't think that strange guy had ever asked me why I did what I did, even though it was less profitable. I didn't like thinking about it myself. All that mattered were the children.

Currently I had a child sitting in front of me while I thought of what to tell him. He was young, his hair light, his eyes a strange off-blue that too many years of mixing blood was going to wipe out in a few generations from now. He seemed serious but it likely didn't have the effect he wanted, being short enough he barely peeked above my desk in the lower chair on the other side that clients used. I hated being talked down to and this was my petty solution.

"So, you're friend is missing."

The boy nodded, his hair falling in a way that made 'disheveled' look like a compliment. I hadn't failed to notice the dark mark below his left eye or the mud under his fingers.

"And you want me to find her."

Another nod.

I took in and let out a deep breath. "Kid, listen, the parents haven't reported your friend missing. You coming in telling me a fairy tale about how your friend kept seeing a goblin-looking thing at her window before she disappeared hardly gives me reason to go searching. She could be home right now."

"She's not!" the boy shouted, getting to his feet. "She's not," he repeated quieter, his voice growing steady. "And Melissa isn't my friend, she's my sister's friend. Mom and dad are out of town for another week and my older sister's been out for a while. My brother got hurt last week and he can't walk. She needs help. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think she did."

"Right. Well, come back when there's a police report." I waved my hand at the kid, shooing him off. "And when you've got some cash."

The boy stood, going into his pocket and pulling out a wallet. He put a fifty on my desk with a few crumpled ones. "This is all I have but I promise that my mom and dad will pay you the rest when they get back. You can call them."

I wasn't so desperate that I'd be taking a case that could very well get me arrested for being the kidnapper instead of the rescuer. I'd almost fallen into that trap several times now and I'd become wise to it. This was the first time that a kid was sent to me though. "Listen, I have nothing to go on. If I find this Melissa and her parents haven't reported her stolen and-"

"She's not a piece of property!" the boy snapped. "She's a girl and she was kidnapped three days ago and I don't know why her parents haven't said anything but she's in danger! I know it!"

I did feel bad about my wording but not enough to show it. The kid was obviously genuinely upset. "Fine, even if I find her then the cops could be called on me and any harm that was done to her would fall on me too. I'm not about to get arrested. Get them to file a police report and I'll think about it."

"You're a jerk!" The boy snatched the money back, walking away with tears in his eyes. He was out the door, slamming it as he left, before I could breathe again. I stared at the plastic on the door, the netting having fallen a part some years ago so I had to keep up the sliding window or let in bugs. I got up, going over to the door and then going down the hall until I was outside of the building. I found the boy a block down and stared at him.

I don't know if he sense me looking at him but something made him stop and turned back to me. We stared at each other a while, my feelings fighting with one another. There was no profit here. Odds were the kid he was looking for was on vacation or sleeping over at another friend's house and just didn't want to tell his sister and make her feel left out. An hour's worth of looking around wouldn't kill me. "Fine, come here. We'll talk."

The boy was slow to move but he turned and I went back into my office, sitting down in my chair. It made a loud click as my weight fell back into it, in need of replacing for the last few years.

"So," I said once we were both seated again. "Melissa have a last name?"

The boy nodded. "Crossman. She's seven. Here." He went into his pocket again for his wallet, pulling out a folded picture this time of two girls. One had almost black hair and dark eyes. The other had chestnut brown hair and was older by a year or two, her eyes a hazel that had more green in them than brown. "The older one. The younger one is my sister."

"You said she's been missing for three days. How did you find out about it?"

"Well, Maggie did technically. She was playing next door with her and they were supposed to go to the mall that day. Her mother had even made plans to drive them there, since my parents are out of town."

'My parents'. That was a strange way to talk about your sister. I ignored it. For all I knew they were a mixed family. That was more common now than ever before. "And she just wasn't there, huh?"

The boy nodded. "Maggie came and woke me after trying to get Daniel out of bed, but he's pretty messed up still. He…. Ah, something happened a few days ago when he broke his leg, so it's hard for him to move. The others didn't know what to do so I started looking around. Then I came here."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You came here. I try to advertise but I admit, my own don't look as good as the others, and the cops are a damn good resource along with being free. Why come to me?"

"Well…" The boy looked unsure of himself. After a few seconds of me looking at him and the kid trying to find a good excuse, he let out a breath. "A faerie told me you might be able to help."

I couldn't help the laugh. That was the first time I'd heard that one and it got me going for a few seconds. The boy looked on at me, torn between determination and shame. I quieted down, a smile on my face now. "I didn't know fairies were such good advertisement."

"I didn't think you'd believe me." There was a blush on his face but he looked upset, as if he had hoped I'd believe such a wild excuse. "I'll just go ask someone else. Sorry for bothering you."

"Wait, wait, wait. First off, I never said I didn't believe you. Why did the fairy tell you to come to me?"

The kid shrugged. "I had to walk the dog and he started barking so I followed him, hoping he was going to help me find Melissa. He led me to a rattrap and there was a faerie inside. The thing told me it wanted to thank me for letting it out so I asked if it knew where the girl was, but I guess fairies aren't good with names and he told me to come to you and you might be able to help. I don't know why."

"I want to believe you," I told the kid earnestly. "I really do, but you're making it very hard. I'll look for the girl but I can't promise much. All this fairytale stuff isn't going to help me."

"It's not a lie." His eyes were back on me and there was an assurance in them that would have probably had me looking for fairies myself if I didn't already think they existed somewhere. "And I want to help."

"You want to help." I wasn't sure how much more I could take. First the kid reels me in with an unbelievable story and now he wanted to tail after me, dragging me down. "Look, if-"

"If it was some sort of goblin or something I can help, I think. I don't know everything, dad hasn't been teaching me, but my sister and brother have. I can probably get them to tell me what we're up against when we find it too. They can tell us how to get her back or sneak past the bad guys."

I went to my old typewriter. I had gotten it years ago because, for some reason, my computer would break down every month or so and I grew tired of going to the public library to type up contracts. I created more than a few that simply needed details added in and typed one up, passing it to the boy. "Name, date, signature. If we get in trouble at least I can't be blamed for kidnapping both of you."

"My real name?"

"No, genius, a fake name. Seriously, kid, where did you pick up those business skills?"

The kid rolled his eyes and took one of the pens out of the cup on my desk, writing out the information before handing it back to me. "It's not that. I just don't use my real name."

I looked down at the paper, thinking it was because he was someone up there in the government or something. Harry Carpenter rang no bells though and I slid the paper into one of the drawers. "Well, Harry-"

"Hank," he defended.

"Well, Harry-"

"Hank."

"Harry."

The boy let out a sigh and backed up. "Fine."

"Good. Now, Harry, first thing we're going to do is go to her house and talk with her parents. She could be away with family or maybe something's up. I don't know, but asking around is a great place to start."

"I already did that. Her parents are acting like she never existed."

"I'll just have to see that for myself, and talk to your sister too while I'm at it." I stood. I had nothing to do today anyway and I could leave my cell number on the door in case any important cases came up. I typed out a note and got a piece of tape, sticking it to the door as I left with him.

I had to get a new car a few years back and the both of us walked to my 01' Avalon, some of the paint chipping off the back bumper. It didn't look like much and it cost even less, but it was a way to get from place to place.

I wasn't expecting the hour-long car ride I had to take to get to his house. It was a nice place, somewhere you wouldn't expect a kidnapping to happen right next door to. Even the girl's house, which he told me was to the left of his own, looked well taken care of. There was no way I could see anyone in this neighborhood not reporting a crime. "How did you even get to my office?"

"Bus and then the train and then another train and another bus." Harry got out of the car. "I looked up where it was on the computer before leaving so it was pretty easy, it just took a while." Harry walked off and I followed, going up to the girl's house first.

I knocked, being greeted by a woman somewhere in her mid thirties, hair and almost red color and a body that spoke of either having kids or no life, possibly both.

"Hello, are you Miss Crossman?"

The woman nodded, looking around. I had to think that I looked pretty strange, obviously too old to be the boy's father and my somewhat dirty clothes no help. "Yes, I am. Did you need something? If you're looking for my husband, he's not home, and I'm not interested in buying anything."

"No, nothing like that. I wanted to know if Melissa might be home? I'm Harry's uncle and he seems really worried about your daughter." I pushed the boy forward a bit, hoping that the child was less threatening than I was.

"Oh, that again. I have no idea what he's talking about. There's never been anyone by that name at this house. I think he and his siblings were playing some game and it confused him or something." She bent down, the smile brighter than before. "I'm sorry Hank, but I really think you should stop playing these kinds of games. You're going to get everyone worried."

"It's not a game." Harry, or Hank, or whatever he wanted to be called, stomped his foot. "How do you not remember your own child? I'm sure Melissa's out there scared and worried and you're not helping!"

The woman let out a breath and closed her eyes, her expression upset as she stood and turned to me. "I'm sorry but this is getting to be too much. If he doesn't stop this I'm going to have to call the police."

"That's alright, ma'am. I'll set him straight. Thank you for your time." I bowed slightly, grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him away as he protested.

I dragged him back to his own house, letting him go and watching him rub his arm. "I'm not lying!"

"I know you're not. She has a set of family pictures in the background and I could see the girl in a few of them that looked like the girl in your photo." I started back at the house we had just come from. I was getting too old for this.

"Why'd you call yourself my uncle?"

I looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "You expected me to tell her I was an investigator? She would have called the cops right then and there and you and me would both be in trouble. There'd be no one to help the girl then. The way I see it though, if her mom is being that persistent about it, she's probably hiding something."

Harry nodded, looking around his own yard. "I've gone around the neighborhood with our dog, he's really good at finding things, but he didn't pick up anything. I don't know where she could be or what to do."

"Let me do some investigating. I need to figure out the family situation and maybe then I can find where you're friend has gotten to." I opened a notebook, jotting down the names and addresses of both families. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay? If I don't have any answers by then, I'm as lost as you are."

Harry nodded. "Thank you… for coming and for believing me. I didn't think you would."

"Kid, you can't make up a story that crazy." I waved my hand, going back to my car. I'd have to start with the school that she was attending first. "Tomorrow, around five in the afternoon." I shut the door, starting off.

I got more than I thought about the girl, her friends, and her parents. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though when I went to meet the girl's father at the marketing building he worked at, I received close to the same experience I had with her mother. There was no reason the girl should have simply vanished. There was no motive, no explanation for the parents to pretend they didn't have a daughter when everyone else had no problem telling me about her. She was friendly, got good grades, and even pulled off a little mischief that had gotten her an after school detention last month for drawing on her desk. It was a strange day.

I didn't expect the next day to be stranger. I had just gotten into the office and sat down when the door opened again. In front of me stood a girl, no older than six or seven, her eyes and hair dark and tear tracks on her face falling down from her swollen red eyes. I recognized her as the other girl in the photograph from yesterday.

"Help," she simply said in a quite, harsh voice, sore from crying. "My brother is missing."