On average there are about 35 missing persons reports filed in New York City a day. All together that makes for 12,775 reports with an average of about 8,000 children reported missing in a year.

The majority of these people are found within hours of being reported missing. The majority of missing children are runaways who make their own way home eventually.

All this together made for a community that didn't think too much when a missing person poster popped in the window of the bodega on the corner or if a mother or father comes up to them and hands them flyers with big bold letters spelling out: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"

Of course it was tragic, of course they sympathize. But they weren't the police, what could they do?

So they give the poster a cursory glance, the information on it leaving their minds as soon as they'd turned away and continue on with their day. They block out the names and dates, and the smiling pictures that accompany it. Without thinking, these small tragedies are removed from their worlds. Too busy to notice, too preoccupied to care.

Of course this sounds awful and no respectable person would admit to such behavior, but you could see it in the way people looked at the homeless. They were a fact of life, an ugly fact of life. One you ignored graciously by taking special care not to make eye contact, turning a deaf ear to the poor destitute as they held their hand out to you for help.

They don't see it and they fly past without a word.

Linda Reagan wasn't like that.

Whenever a homeless person tried to talk to her she'd make sure to smile, looking them in the eyes as she'd answer back. After all, it must be terribly lonely when the whole world decides to pretend you don't exist.

Whenever they hold their hands out for a dollar Linda gives it to them, she kept singles in her wallet for that very reason in fact.

There was of course the argument that she was just helping them pay for beer or drugs. There was no denying that a great many of the homeless population suffered from addiction, but it was also no denying that everybody needed to eat, everybody needed access to water and clean clothes. Everyone deserves a chance, so Linda gave without a second thought.

She got to know the regulars who sat on the corners of the streets she frequented. She didn't know everything about them but she knew all their names, which she prided herself on.

There was Morgan who desperately needed a haircut and a shave, but who also seemed to have a flower crown ready for when Linda walked by.

Gabe, a giant of a man who always called Linda 'Miss' and asked after her family. Terry, with a face full of freckles and a gap in her front teeth that you only ever really saw when she smiled, which she did a lot. There was also Bean, Terry's big mutt of a dog who made people quick to cross the street but who was more likely to lick you to death than he was to bite.

And Jason, the youngest. Linda didn't really know how old he was, but he had a baby face that made her feel like he could have been anywhere from 18-24. He'd formed a habit of calling Linda 'mom' after she'd 'babied' him by asking if he'd eaten that day one too many times. She didn't mind.

If you asked Linda Reagan why she went out of her way to do these things she would think of no other answer other than "well why not?" It was part of what made her a good nurse, her capacity for empathy and compassion for a complete stranger.

The thing to remember was that they weren't strangers. Everyone you meet is known to someone. Everyone had a story, with lives and family and loved ones who know them.

Everyone is somebody to someone.

If it were Jack or Sean who was hurt or out on the street Linda would want them treated with respect. And it was with this in mind that she went about her day asking people "How can I help?" No matter who they were.

So she looked homeless people in the eye and listened when they talked, she helped where she could, even if it was just a dollar. Because if it were her loved one out there that's she hoped others would do.

Linda also looked at missing person's posters; really looked. Every one she passed, no matter where she was, she looked. She committed all the information on it to memory and burned the face in the photo into her brain before going out into the world.

Whenever she visited homeless camps on her days off with food and extra blankets—a habit that made Danny nervous but one that he didn't fault her for—she looked everyone in the eye as she searched through her memory to see if she recognized any of the faces on the posters. It was often she came up empty. But those few happy endings she did manage to play a part in made it all worth it.

She did this because she hoped others would do the same; needed others to do the same.

She looked out for the faces of strangers in a crowd because somewhere out there she hoped someone was doing the same for her niece.

In the years since Rose had been taken much had changed. Some changes were good, some not so good, but the one thing that hadn't changed was the hope that one day Rosie might make it home. If the Reagan family was honest with themselves they'd admit that this hope was misguided. But that was the thing about hope, it didn't always have to make sense.

Linda kept a copy of Rosie's most recent missing person poster at her work. She knew Danny and Jamie hanged their own copies at their precincts for everyone to see too. The Center for Missing and Exploited Children had age-progressed the photo on it to what Rose might look like at age 9. The photo was outdated now but all the information on it was the same as it had been all those years ago. Linda didn't have to look to know what it said:

Rosemary Reagan

Missing from: Slope Park Playground in Brooklyn

Date Missing: Sept 23, 2000

Age at time of Disappearance: 5 months

Hair Color: Lt. Brown

Eye Color: Brown

If you have any information please call: 1-800-843-5678

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Linda looked at every poster she passed because she cared.

She cared about two year old Christopher Dansby, Missing Since: May 18, 1989, who was last seen in a park on 114th Street and Lenox Avenue.

She cared about 19 year old Stevie Bates, Missing Since: Apr 27, 2012, from Manhattan

She cared about Milo Gibson, a freckle faced 15 year old, red headed boy who went missing from his grandparent's house in Queens.

She cared about Rosalie Russo, a dimpled cheeked 13 year old brunette who went missing from her foster home in Brooklyn.

She cared about Olivia Olsen, a 13 year old blonde with glasses who went missing on her way to school in the Bronx.

She cared about all of them because she knew that behind every poster there was a family member or loved one who was hoping beyond hope just like the Reagan's were, for someone just like Linda to help notice that one face in the crowd.

She cared about all of them because she knew that behind every photo you saw on the street was a real live person. A person who deserved to come home safe just like Rosemary did.

A/N: Before I go I feel I should mention that the statistics at the start of the chapter are real. Christopher Dansby and Stevie Bates are also real people and real missing persons cases that I encourage you guys to look up if you feel so inclined. The number at the end of Rosemary's missing person poster is also the real number for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children