9:01 a.m.

"I thought he started at 9."

The clerk gave Duncan a sympathetic look before turning his gaze back to the files on the counter. "I'm sure he'll be here any minute, sir."

After another three minutes of pacing, the Immortal called out impatiently, a notch louder than he had meant to. "Powell."

The officer looked up at him in surprise before leaning over to grab a second donut. "MacLeod, right?"

"Yeah, MacLeod." Duncan could barely contain his anger at the man's seeming indifference to his need for the officer's attention.

Powell finally made his way over and was hastily followed by the impatient Scotsman as he strolled back to his desk. "What can I do for you, Mr. MacLeod?"

"I'm here about Richie Ryan." Duncan spoke quickly, leaning over the desk in a vain attempt to draw a bit more of the man's attention.

The attempt was not successful. However, the mention of the teen did peak the officer's interest. "Didn't he rob your store?"

"Yeah, that's him." Duncan replied, his very thin patience sliding further out of his grasp. "He took off. Could you give me any leads on where to find him?"

"Took off?" The officer looked down again, losing interest in what was looking to be an uninteresting case.

"Yeah, took off." Duncan's tone hardened even further as he watched the man once again turn his focus away.

Hoping for at least a bit of action, the officer prodded. "Did he take something of yours?"

"No, he didn't take something. He's a kid and he's out on his own. I just want to know if you have any idea where he might go." It took all of the Scotsman's restraint not to shake the man.

That restraint did not take the officer's shrug well at all. "Check with his caseworker or foster parents." Fortunately for the ancient's criminal record, the officer's response shocked him into a momentary silence.

"Foster parents? Richie's 18." Duncan finally replied; annoyed at how little help the officer had turned out to be.

"Not last time I checked." Powell said it matter-of-factly, now studying his papers carefully.

Duncan firmly sat his hand in the middle of the reading material before resuming his questioning. "Last time we talked, you told me 'next month he turns 18.' Now unless I'm mistaken, that month has come and gone."

"Look, MacLeod." Powell finally returned the ancient's gaze. "This kid needs to do some time to get himself straightened out. You were soft because he was a minor. You weren't being rational."

"Are you telling me you lied about his age?" Fire shot from his eyes.

The officer shifted awkwardly under the stare. "Look…"

"How old?" Duncan demanded.

"It's really a matter of experience, not age…" He tried again.

Duncan pounded his fist against the desk. "How old, Powell?"

"I think around 16, give or take a few months. You'd have to check with his social worker." He quickly replied.

The fire that consumed Duncan allowed him to ask only one question. "Where do I find this person?"

10:43 a.m.

"What did you say your name was again?" The woman asked distractedly.

Duncan would have sworn she was sixteen still herself. "MacLeod. Duncan MacLeod."

"And what is it you wanted to know about this Richie…" She trailed off.

The Immortal quickly completed the sentence for her. "Ryan. Richie Ryan. He's been living with me and he took off this morning. Officer Powell suggested you might know where to find him."

"Well, I'm really not supposed to give out the home addresses of minors…" She replied hesitantly.

This caused a slight outburst from the frustrated man. "He lives with me. I know his address!" He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I just want to find him and bring him home. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, let me just take a look at his file." The caseworker seemed content to accept his apology. She read off the information slowly. "Right now he is living with a Karen Abbott. He's been there for 2 ½ years."

"He lives with me." Duncan remained much calmer than he thought was possible.

The caseworker frowned. "Well, you could check with Ms. Abbott…"

"Alright." He answered impatiently. "Do you have an address?"

The woman typed a few lines into her computer and paused, waiting for her desired information to come onscreen before replying. "Well, she was at 23 Glencourt until 13 months ago. Then…oh, my."

"What?" Duncan questioned.

The social worker was turning a noticeable shade of pink. "It seems Ms. Abbott was killed in a car accident a little over a year ago."

Duncan sighed. He hated the idea of Richie falling through the cracks like that. Of course, he had always suspected that was the case. But for it to be confirmed like this was just appalling. He decided to get back to his original mission: finding Richie. "Could you tell me where he was last enrolled in school?"

"Jameson Sr. Cross town address." She replied quietly.

He turned back to her, still desiring one last piece of information. "How old is he?"

She gave him an odd look before reviewing the file in front of her. "He'll be 16 in January. January 12th."

"Damn it." How could he not have seen it? Why had he just taken Powell's word? 15.

As Duncan stormed out of the building, not even bothering to get the address, he couldn't help but notice the weather. A storm was coming; soon. He hoped desperately that Richie was somewhere safe.