Chapter 2- Finding Help
Brandi looked up from her book "Catherine the Great by Robert Massie. The book belonged to Uncle Harold, who apparently owned a library and what amounted to a zillion books. After Brandi had gotten over her surprise about the books, Uncle Harold had smiled, kissed her forehead tenderly, and played "20 Questions" on what she liked to read. She saw then that Uncle Harold was looking at her with a smile and a warm look in his bespectacled blue eyes, that were like hers. "Do you like the book, Sweetheart?" Uncle Harold asked. Uncle Harold called her baby, princess, and sweetheart. While the names were kind of embarrassing, Brandi didn't know how to tell him to can it with the names.
"Yeah. My mom once told me that you were rich, but I didn't think you were this rich," Brandi said, indicating the shelves of books.
"Well, now you know. When you were born me and your father used my cleaning service to clean his and your mother's apartment, since neither of us could clean to save our lives," Uncle Harold said, sitting next to her on the couch and wrapping his arms around her. Brandi buried her face in his broad chest as he kissed the top of her head. The more she was around Uncle Harold, the more she remembered. The first memory had been last night as he was tucking her in and he kissed her.
"Uncle Harold, have you found the man you want to help you and me with your project?" Brandi asked as Uncle Harold twined his fingers in her hair gently.
"I've already found him once by accident, but, like me and you he's off the grid. He could be anywhere," Uncle Harold said.
"Uncle Harold, you hack into surveillance cameras in the city. Finding one man can't be that difficult, can it?" Brandi asked. Uncle Harold chuckled dryly as he kissed her forehead.
"I do love you, Sweetheart, and I think you're right. C'mon, Brandi," Uncle Harold said, standing up. He pulled Brandi up and limped over to his computers. He sat down and clicked the mouse and pressed a few keys. Brandi wrapped her slender arms around his neck.
"There," Uncle Harold said an hour later and pulling up a camera feed. The black-and-white camera feed was on a subway. 5 or 6 men were in the shot.
"Okay. Which one are we looking for; a member of the gang or the hobo with the beard and terrible clothes?" Brandi asked, leaning forward to look at the frame.
'The hobo. I would never ask for help from a gang banger. It's bad enough that I have to ask for help from my 13-year-old niece," Uncle Harold said, squeezing her wrists gently.
"Wait a minute. What is Mr. Hobo doing? Is he fighting with the gang bangers?" Brandi asked, leaning closer.
"It appears to be. I'm gonna call Talbot and Jamison. They will go to the precinct in Manhattan since that's probably where they'll take him," Uncle Harold said, picking up his phone.
Finch looked out at the Brooklyn Bridge early the next morning, with Brandi beside him as the car came to a stop. "Well, here he is," Brandi said softly. Finch smiled briefly at her and gently stroked the back of her neck and hair with his fingers.
"I just hope he is as agreeable as you are about helping," Finch said just as softly as the hobo came up to them.
"Do I owe you money? Because I'm, uh, running a little short at the moment," the hobo said.
"You don't owe me or my niece anything, Mr. Reese. That's the name you prefer, isn't it? I know you've had several," Finch said.
"Don't worry. We're not going to tell anybody about you," Brandi said gently.
"No offense, little girl, but you don't know anything about me," Reese said.
"Me and my niece know exactly everything about you, Mr. Reese. We know about the work you used to do for the government. We know about the doubts you came to have about that work. I know that the government, along with everybody else, thinks you're dead," Finch said as Reese came up and stopped, looking around.
"And we know that you've spent the last couple of months trying to drink yourself to death," Brandi said.
"You look like you couldn't be more than 13 or 14. What do you know about drinking?" Reese asked amused.
"More than I'd like. My mother tried drinking after my dad died on 9/11. What snapped her out of it was me," Brandi said.
"We also know you're contemplating more efficient ways to do it. So you see knowledge is not our problem. Doing something with that knowledge, that's where you'd come in. You can call me Mr. Finch and this is my niece, Brandi. I think all of us can help one another. I don't think you need a psychiatrist or a support group or pills," Finch said.
"What do I need?" Reese asked.
"You need a purpose. More specifically you need a job," Finch said.
"Look, I know you don't know us or even if, but please, let me help you. You lost someone special. I get it. My father was killed at Ground Zero and my mom died a couple of days ago in a mafia hit gone wrong. My uncle didn't even let me go to the funeral because the men who did it might be targeting me. But please, come with us. There's something me and Uncle Harold want you to see. if you still don't want the job after what we show you, you can leave," Brandi said. Reese grinned briefly.
"All right, but only because she's a good kid," Reese said, going to the car.
"Thank you, baby," Finch said, wrapping his arm around Brandi's thin shoulders.
"You're welcome, Uncle Harold. Not that I know what is so important," Brandi said as they followed Reese.
"You will, Sweetheart. I promise," Finch said, pressing a kiss to her head.
"Thanks, Uncle Harold. I love you," Brandi said.
"I love you too, Sweetheart. You tell me when and we can get started on legally making you my daughter instead of my niece," Finch said.
"Okay. But I'm not ready yet. When I decide I'll let you know," Brandi said as he opened the door for her.
That's all I want, baby," Finch said, touching her face and hair gently as they got into the car.