It was a typical evening in Portland. The rain was bouncing off the ground and there was no end in sight. But for Eliot Spencer, retrieval expert extraordinaire, this was no typical night.
Twenty-three years ago, when he was only thirteen, his six-year old little sister was kidnapped from their home and never heard from again, until tonight.
Eliot was sitting outside the house she now shared with her husband and two kids, his niece and nephew.
He never normally walked blindly into any situation, but after arriving back in Boston after their last case, he'd taken his bag and headed straight to the airport, gotten on a plane and came here without a moment's thought. But now that he was here, he didn't know what to say.
'Hi there, remember me, the brother you had before you were kidnapped twenty-three years ago?'
Or how about,
'Hi, I'm your long-lost brother that let your dad beat you up till you got kidnapped and then I killed him?'
So now here he was, sitting outside her house. He'd watched her help the kids with their homework and she was now settling down for dinner. She looked happy and content, and sitting alone in his car he couldn't decide why he'd wanted to see her so badly.
To give himself piece of mind, that she was okay, that what had happened to her really had been for the best?
Or was it to beg for forgiveness for not protecting her from their father or for letting her get kidnapped?
He wondered how much she even remember, would she know him, would she remember him? Would she hug a brother she'd missed or slap a man who'd let her go?
Eliot Spencer was not a person who was used to being unsure or indecisive, he knew what to do and when to do it in almost every situation, but this time, he was lost.
So he sat alone, outside her house, just watching, for now.