Early the next morning, Christine tiptoed into Raoul's bedroom, a single purpose in mind. She looked around, noting the framed pictures on the flat surfaces: some of his family, some of him and his friends, a picture of him with his mother at his college graduation…She noticed with some level of discomfort that a lot of pictures were of her—doing normal things like laughing, making goofy faces, eating ice cream. She had thought he was taking pictures just to be fun. She hadn't realized that he had actually kept them. There were a couple of pictures with the two of them…one of them kissing. They had taken that at a photo booth just a few weeks ago. She remembered it with an ache. She had felt unbelievably happy at that moment.

His bedroom was much larger than hers and much nicer. It was also the bedroom of an unmarried man. There were clothes on the floor and some at the foot of his bed, books scattered around, loose papers all over his desk. The bathroom door was open, and she could see a couple of towels on the tiled floor.

He was sleeping peacefully, his arm tossed over his face. With a little blush, she saw that he did not wear a shirt while sleeping. His chest was…nice.

"Uh…Raoul?" she whispered softly, kneeling by him. "Raoul?"

He rolled away from her, grunting in irritation. She reached out and poked his bare back.

"Raoul," she hissed.

He grunted again, pulling the blue blankets up to his shoulders. She rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and tried again with a deep breath.

"Raoul, please wake up," she said, shaking his shoulder.

"Wha…?" he groaned, opening his eyes a crack and peering around. He looked at her and blinked a few times, trying to wake himself up. She knelt by the bedside awkwardly as he pressed his fingers to his eyes and ran his hand through his hair in confusion.

"Christine," he said hoarsely. "Is there something you need?"

She nodded. "It's Sunday."

"I know," he replied, sitting up and yawning. He rubbed his face.

"I have church today," she said. "And you didn't pack any of my dresses or skirts in the bag." She bit her lip and looked at the ground. "I'm sorry for bothering you. I wouldn't have, but I don't have any nice clothes to wear or any money for the bus."

He frowned a little. "Honey, you just got out of the hospital yesterday. Are you sure you want to go to church today?"

"It's Sunday," she repeated. "I have church."

It was something she and her Pappa had done. Every Sunday, they went to church. Every Sunday. Perhaps…if she went today…

With a final sigh, Raoul climbed out of bed. "All right," he said. "I'll take you to church."

Christine awkwardly stood around the guest bedroom while he showered and readied himself. Then he made her breakfast, as she was still too shy to go rummaging through his cupboards and fridge. As they ate, he said,

"I have a nice neighbor who's about your size. You wouldn't mind borrowing a dress from her, would you? It's just that I'm not sure if we can make it in time if we have to drive all the way to your apartment and then to the church house."

So twenty minutes later, Christine was in a borrowed, plain black dress. She looked like she was going to a funeral. The thought made her a little sick. No, this was not a funeral. Her father was alive…somewhere. Raoul had put on a shirt and tie with some dark slacks, and he led her out to the car.

"Thank you," she said quietly as they drove.

"No problem," he said. "I'm proud of you that you're able to do this so soon."

No—he shouldn't have been proud of her. Inside, her mind and stomach were twisting cruelly. She wanted to jump out of the car and run—just run until she found him. He was somewhere. And he was her father and he loved her. So he would try to get back to her as well.

They arrived a few minutes before the services began, and Christine hesitated slightly when entering the chapel. She and her Pappa had done this together…The man beside her was most definitely not her father. She crossed herself with the Holy Water, and Raoul followed suit.

As she sat in the pew and listened to the service, she clutched her necklace in her hand and bowed her head, trying to control her tears.

Please, God…Please. I have always tried to follow Your commandments. I have tried to do what You told me. Please bring my Pappa back safely to me. Please bring him back. I'm scared. Please help me…

Raoul sat by her quietly, his arm around her shoulders while they were sitting. He knelt and stood and prayed and sang when required, and he even took the sacrament after she did. When she returned to her seat, she knelt down again and pressed her hands over her face.

Please, please, please, God. I don't understand. I don't understand how You could do this to me. Please, I'm so sorry for anything bad I've ever done. I'll do anything. Please bring my Pappa back to me.

The tears were coming, and she couldn't wipe them away fast enough. She felt them smearing the light makeup she had put on, and black was streaking her fingers. After a moment, she felt Raoul kneel down beside her.

"You okay?" he murmured quietly in her ear. "We can leave if you need to."

She shook her head. She needed to finish the service. However, when the sacrament service was over, she didn't want to stand and sing. She didn't want to. She remained kneeling, crying, and Raoul put his arm around her waist and pulled gently.

"Come on," he said.

She didn't protest this time, and she let herself be dragged up and led out of the church house.

When she got back to Raoul's apartment, she went to the guest room and struggled out of the dress before flinging it on the floor, never wanting to see it again. She pulled on some old clothes, burrowed under the sheets, and sobbed. The service without her Pappa beside her had been torture. He was a very religious man and had instilled that in her as well. How could she attend her meetings without him? He had been part of the reason why they were so special. She needed to hear his strong singing voice beside her, needed to hear him stumbling over some of the unfamiliar English phrases and words, needed to feel his warm presence beside her. The service had not felt right without him.

Raoul tried to comfort her, but after a while it was clear even to him that she simply wanted to cry herself to exhaustion. He sat by the bed, a hand on her back as she wailed. She felt pathetic and disgusting—and it only added to her misery.

Finally, she grew too tired to cry anymore, and she hiccoughed tiredly for a while, occasional tears dripping down onto the sheets.

"Just let me know if you need anything at all, all right?" Raoul said softly. He kissed her cheek and left.

The next afternoon, Christine was curled up on the couch, staring at the television in complete unhappiness. She had been watching shows about animals for the entire day, and she was currently watching a cheetah chase after some antelope.

"The cheetah can reach speeds of 60-70 miles per hour and is the fastest land mammal in the world."

The door opened, and she blinked at the television.

"Hey," Raoul said, walking over to see her. He put his bag down next to the couch and sat down, picking up her legs and setting them on his lap. "You doing okay?"

She was silent, watching as the huge cat leapt onto its prey and latched its teeth into its body.

Raoul had been very apologetic that morning as he went to work. He had told her that he would take another day off if she needed him, but she had told him that he needed to go. Then he had showed her how to work the remote control, told her to eat whatever she wanted, ensured that she had a way of contacting his office, kissed her, and left. She had found a spare blanket in a closet. It was black and musty. Then she had sat down on the couch and pushed some buttons on the remote control, confusing a few of the controls and menus. She had been stuck on this channel ever since. And she had lain down and hadn't moved since. The dull noise calmed her and helped her keep her mind off of…things.

"Did you know that hippopotamuses are born underwater?" she said.

"No," he said. "Did you watch something about hippos?"

She nodded. The cheetah had begun to eat. It was disgusting, and she stared at it.

Then she said, "A bunch of hippopotamuses together are called a school. Like fish. Maybe because they both live in water."

"Maybe." He watched silently with her for a few minutes. Then he said, "Did you do anything today?"

"I learned about animals. Wolves are so big. I never realized how big they were. And the baby wolves were so cute." The program cut to an advertisement about an animal shelter, showing wide-eyed puppies and playful kittens with sad music in the background.

There was more silence for a few moments, and then Raoul said, "Have you eaten anything today?"

She shrugged.

"I'm going to talk to the police tomorrow," he said. "See if they've found anything."

"Okay," she said. Raoul picked up the remote and asked her if she wanted to watch the news. She shrugged again. Then she watched as people talked about a grisly murder from a few nights before that was leaving the police completely stumped—no story about her Pappa, of course. People went missing every day in the city.

After Raoul practically forced her to eat a sandwich, she went back to the room and slept.

When she woke the next morning, she had an idea. It had gone off like a light bulb in her brain—perhaps triggered by the murder she had watched about. The idea had somehow been formed as she slept, and she staggered out of the bed and showered.

Raoul smiled when she entered the kitchen, and he handed her some toast and cereal.

"Feeling better today?" he asked, sitting across from her. He was already dressed and ready for work.

Christine nodded, pushing spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. The sleek clock on the wall ticked loudly, the refrigerator hummed, and the heater buzzed softly.

Raoul looked at his phone while he ate, tapping on it occasionally, and she glanced at him a few times, trying to get her courage together.

"Hey, Raoul?" she finally said.

He put his phone down and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"I was thinking last night. You know…when people get killed in this city…?"

"Uh…yeah…" he said, looking confused, his right eyebrow jumping up.

"Sometimes the police can't ever find the killer."

"Christine, I know they'll find your dad—"

"No, wait," she interrupted. She fidgeted with her spoon nervously. "Well, sometimes I hear people say that those people…were killed…by the Phantom."

Raoul's other eyebrow rose instantly. "What?" he said, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "The Phantom? Christine, please don't tell me that you actually believe that he exists!"

She glowered at her soggy cereal. "I was just thinking."

"No—wait, Christine." He reached out and took her fingers. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so condescending. It's just—that guy's only an urban legend of the city's. Whenever the police are clueless, people just blame it on some imaginary thing. He's not real. People just make up the stories to scare themselves."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "All right."

But it was not the end of the matter for her.

"Excuse me."

The woman looked at her, pausing in the motions of wiping the table. "Yeah?" She frowned a little. "You have I.D., honey?"

"I...I..."

She was trying not to stutter or be terrified, but she was both. A few days after her conversation with Raoul, she had taken to wandering the streets, asking the owners and patrons of cafés and stores and bars whether or not they had seen her father. Most had shaken their heads, but some of the kinder ones had promised to keep a lookout.

She had been going stir-crazy inside Raoul's apartment. Knowing that her father was out there somewhere had driven her into the city. She always left after Raoul left for work, and she always made sure she was back before he was. He would probably disapprove of her walking around the streets alone—especially considering that some of the places she visited were…not very nice.

"What is it, girly?"

Christine jumped a little, twisting a curl around as she was wont to do when nervous. Then she lightly touched the necklace around her neck.

"I'm looking for my father," she whispered, staring at the floor. "He went…missing almost a week ago. I was wondering…if you had seen anything…or heard anything…maybe…" She nervously glanced up at the buxom woman.

She shook her head. "Sorry, honey. Haven't seen anything. Have you talked to the police? They might be able to help you."

Christine nodded, close to tears again. "Yeah. They…they promised me that they would look…but I wanted to look, too…"

One of the patrons at the bar suddenly laughed. He was a dirty-looking older man, the sort of man one would expect to be drinking at a bar at four in the afternoon.

"You know they won't help you, right?" he said gruffly, still chortling. "Them coppers…More worthless than anything I could ever think of."

Christine trembled a bit, more disheartened and distraught by the second.

"Look at her, Dora!" the man said. "Looks like she's about to burst into tears!"

"Because her father was taken, stupid!" the woman snapped. "Don't listen to him, hon. The cops will help you."

The older man slapped his knee in amusement. "No—lissen to me, missy. If you want to find your father, you need to go to someone other than the cops…Someone a lotta people don't know about…"

The woman—Dora—looked up sharply. "Don't go frightening her with your stupid stories, Lou!"

"They ain't stories, they're true!" Lou insisted, smacking his palm onto the counter. "Come over here, missy, and lissen to me."

Drawn by the promise and hope of finding her father, Christine obeyed. She sat on the stool next to the dirty man and stared widely while he spoke.

"Now, you gotta listen closely, all right? 'Cause I ain't s'posed to tell, see, but you look so sad that you just went right on and broke my heart so now I gotta tell you." He shifted his chair closer. "Down here in this part of town we got our own little monster, you see…"

"A monster?" Christine whispered.

Lou nodded solemnly. "A monster, right. That's the only way to describe it. It's this monster that goes 'round and does dirty work for other people. Get my drift, girl?"

"Wait," she said. "Is this—is it…the Phantom?"

The man nodded immediately. "That's his own special little name we got for him! Doubt he even got a real one…if he's even human or not…And he does the work that no one else wants to. You know—snuffing people out. Exting'shing their candles."

"I—I don't want my father killed," she said, choked up. "No!"

"Now don't start crying, girl, just lissen to me." Lou leaned over and patted her shoulder heavily, his hands big and clumsy. It looked like dirt and grime were permanently engraved into the folds and grooves of his hands. "Listen, all right? So one time, I hears this story from a buddy of mine. He swears on his life that it's true. So this buddy of mine, he has this cousin, right? And this cousin has a friend who got in—"

"Stop scaring the girl, Lou!" Dora snapped. "You've had too much to drink, I tell you what!"

"Just shut up for once, Dora!" Lou barked. "Go be useful and scrub the toilets. They're dirty as anything."

Dora harrumphed and stuck her nose in the air, but she was silent.

"Anyway," Lou said, looking back at Christine. "This buddy's cousin's friend got in deep with some of the big bosses, you know. Gambling and stuff. Owed 'em lots of money. I heard he'd stole some crack from them as well and sold it on the side. So the bosses aren't too happy about that, right? They're right angry. So they call on this guy—this monster of ours—and ask him to get the guy. They're angry at him. Follow?"

Christine nodded, still staring widely.

"So my buddy's cousin's friend knew that this guy was coming after him—just knew it. So he goes into hiding. He hides in the deepest, darkest hole in the earth and just hides. He don't tell anyone where he is. He don't let anyone know who he is, 'cause he knows what's after him. Do you wanna know what happened next, girl?"

"Yes, please," Christine said quickly. "What happened?"

Lou grinned widely. "It took the Phantom two days to track this idiot down. Two days! The guy had hidden in what he thought was the safest spot in the world, but the Phantom was there, right behind him the whole time."

"Is he actually…real?" Christine asked breathlessly. "My boyfriend said he isn't."

"Oh, missy, he just said that to make you feel safer at night—don't want a pretty little thing like you getting all worked up. But this Phantom is as real as you and me. He can figure out where people are. Now, this just gets better. My buddy's cousin told my buddy. This guy had hidden himself in this room once he got wind that the Phantom was after him. The room had no windows, nothing except a door, and the guy locked it all up nice and secure. It was in the top of this building, all hidden away like. Somehow the Phantom got up that building, into that room, and killed the guy. The best part was this: the Phantom goes back to the bosses, right? And he's like, 'I've killed him.' And they're like, 'Prove it.' So the Phantom tells them to look in this room. They have to break the door down. The guy was in there, dead as anything, swinging from a rope. And the door was still locked from the inside."

Lou leaned back, looking supremely satisfied at his delivery of the story. Christine's heart was beating rapidly, and she blinked quickly. This monster—this Phantom—he found that man in one day…found the man hiding in the most secretive spot…

"So I would think that the Phantom could help you find your daddy," Lou said after taking a long draught of beer, obviously thirsty after telling such a long story. "He'd find him in days. You just gotta pay him what he wants. He works for money, see. He does anything for the right price. And finding a nice daddy would probably be easy for him."

Hope flared in Christine's chest, and she nearly sobbed with relief.

"Where—where can I find him?" Christine asked desperately.

"He's tricky, apparently," Lou said, savoring the gossip. "No one knows where he lives—if he even got a place to live. You just gotta look—be in the right place at the right time. Tell you what, girly. You go down to the bar on Chesterfield Avenue later tonight. Know that place? I'm sure someone can help you there."

Christine leapt from her seat. "Thank you," she said breathlessly. "Thank you, thank you…"

Lou grinned, lighting a cigarette as he did so. "Good luck, honey."

Christine burst out of the dark, dank bar and into the day that was brighter than before.

She was going to find her father.