Blue Waltz

Chapter 16: Counterpoint

Sept. 24

Charity still felt out of sorts when she woke up for the second day in a row without a job to have to go to. Normally, she needed over an hour to get ready for the day considering how wild some of her curls could be, but with her only goal being to get Gosalyn to school on time, she slept in and kept her morning ablutions to a minimum. Instead of wrangling her curly hair into a bun, she kept it down, and she abstained from her usual amount of make-up. And, of course, she wore comfy clothes: jeans and a t-shirt.

That was one part of her job at DCF that she wasn't going to miss, the business attire.

After a quick cup of coffee, she took Gosalyn to school. On her way home, she wondered how long she would have to wait for Darkwing Duck to contact her about going to the Youth Shelter. She wished she had set a time for them to meet, and with a sigh, she went through a list of things she could do in the meantime.

Write? She felt too anxious to do that. Bake? But if Darkwing arrived in the middle of baking, he would have to wait. Cleaning? The apartment was kept in a usual state of cleanliness, even with Gosalyn there, but she was certain she could find something to scrub.

However, when she arrived at her apartment, she could hear Bunny going crazy, barking up a storm, even from the bottom of the stairs. She wasn't the only tenant to own a dog in the complex, but she knew her dog enough to know his different types of barks, and this one sounded angry.

"Bunny!" she shouted at her door as she dug out her keys. "Bunny, hold on. I'm coming, buddy." Her fingers fumbled with the keys in the lock before she could finally open the door.

She stood in stunned silence at the scene before her: Bunny with his front paws on one of her chairs and his hackles up as he barked and growled at the intruder. Darkwing Duck was standing on the table with his cape gathered around him, looking like one of the women on a cartoon who had just seen a mouse scurry across the floor. Gosalyn's bowl that still had some milk at the bottom was knocked over and was dripping on the floor. A lamp had been knocked over, and the sliding glass door let it a breeze that knocked the blinds together.

"Bunny, come here," Charity said, sighing with relief as she closed the door. The dog didn't obey, so she had to walk to the table and pick him up to his protests. "It's safe to come down now."

"Are you sure?" Darkwing asked skeptically, crouched on the table as if preparing to flee in case Bunny jumped out of Charity's arms. "Maybe you should lock him up."

"Yeah, considering this is his home and he's just barking at an intruder, so I really should punish him," Charity snapped, cuddling her dog closer. "I'm sorry that he scared you, but you really should have waited outside until I got home."

"I didn't know you were gone," Darkwing muttered, creeping down from the table.

"I was taking Gosalyn to school," Charity said, carrying Bunny into the kitchen. "And I thought you were going to call first."

"I was anxious to get started," Darkwing said, not straying from the safety of the table.

Charity was relieved by this, and she couldn't blame him for wanting to get started. Besides, he wouldn't know what time Gosalyn needed to get to school. "Sorry, for snapping at you," she said, opening up a cupboard and digging out a bag.

Bunny's ears perked at the noise.

"That's okay," Darkwing said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I shouldn't have come in. I really thought that you were in the back and didn't hear me knock."

Charity was irritated by the fact that he still walked in without being invited, but then again, she kind of left the latch on the sliding doors unlocked. She would have to remember that in the future. "Well, if you're going to keep breaking into my apartment—"

"I didn't break in," Darkwing protested.

"—then the two of you are going to have to get along," Charity said, approaching Darkwing with Bunny still in her arms. She handed the bag to Darkwing.

It was a bag of dog treats.

"You have got to be kidding me," Darkwing said, his shoulders sagging.

"Go on. Make friends," Charity insisted, shaking the bag.

Bunny turned his head, his eyes locked on the treats. He growled a little at Darkwing but his focus was elsewhere. He licked his lips.

Darkwing gave Charity a look as if saying, "Do I have to?" before digging into the bag and pulling out a chunk that smelled of bacon. Tentatively, he held the treat out.

Bunny growled but he didn't show his teeth. Instead he stretched his neck out, tongue darting out as if he was trying to get the treat without being anywhere close to Darkwing. Eventually, the treat was close enough that he snatched it away, barely missing fingers in the process.

Darkwing flinched away, grateful that he didn't lose a hand.

"Good, Bunny. See? Darkwing is our friend," Charity said in a high voice, scratching her dog's ears. "Let's try that again." This time, she put Bunny on the floor, holding onto his collar.

With a heavy sigh, Darkwing brought out another treat and held it out to the dog. When Bunny jumped up, he dropped the treat and retreated a few steps. "Okay, that's enough. We really should get going." He wiped his fingers on his cape to get rid of the smell of dog treats.

"Okay, just let me get Bunny's leash," Charity said, heading into the back with Bunny on her heels.

"Whoa, what? Why?" Darkwing called.

"Because he's coming with us," Charity answered.

"No, we are not taking him with us," Darkwing insisted.

"But I have to," Charity said, coming back with a large bag and a dog leash. "I never go to the Youth Shelter without him. A lot of kids open up to me because of him. If I show up without Bunny, there's going to be a lot of protests. They may even kick me out." She opened her eyes, wide and innocent.

Darkwing narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn't buying it.

"It's true. I promise, Bunny can help," Charity said. "Besides, it's my car, my rules." She grabbed her keys and threw them in her purse.

"Whoa, no we're taking my motorcycle," Darkwing said, waving his arm. "And my rule is: No dogs allowed."

Charity laughed. "Yeah, we're really going to get a lot of information if we pull up in something that flashy. We want these kids to talk to us, not run away."

"I'm Darkwing Duck," he stated, working up to a speech as all thoughts of who he was talking to disappeared. "I have a certain reputation. I have a signature look that people expect from me. I can't just go solving crimes in some…some…sedan! I have style. I have panache. So I'm going to insist that we take my vehicle and the dog isn't coming. End of discussion."

Ten minutes later, Darkwing sat in the passenger seat of Charity's sedan, hunching down in his seat so nobody would see him. In the back, Bunny lay on the seat directly behind Charity, grumbling and growling his displeasure at being in the same car as Darkwing.

"I'm never going to live this down if anyone sees me like this," Darkwing grumbled, folding his arms.

"Well, if you took off your hat, nobody is going to recognize you while we're driving," Charity said, waving her hand and flicking at the large-brimmed fedora that was taking up part of her space.

"I told you. I have a signature look. I have to have the hat," Darkwing insisted.

Charity snatched the hat and tossed it in the back seat, upsetting Bunny who sat up and growled even though the hat didn't even come close to touching him.

"Hey!" Darkwing protested. He glanced back, only to have Bunny glare at him. He wasn't going to retrieve his hat anytime soon.

"Now please sit up. If we get in a car wreck, you'll rupture your liver or something," Charity said.

Darkwing did as he was told, adjusting the seatbelt in the process. It had been a long time since he had been in the passenger seat in a car. He was so used to doing all the driving that he didn't like not being in control. Yet, it seemed like ever since he met Charity Loveatte, he had lost a lot of control in his life. He wanted to be angry, but none of this was her fault. In fact, she had risked a lot and gone a lot out of her way to not only take care of Gosalyn, but to help him on this case.

He had to admit, she was a very passionate person when it came to her job.

He released a sigh of relief. He wasn't helping anyone if he couldn't work with Charity.

"So, what's the plan?" Darkwing asked, used to Launchpad asking him that question. He was the duck with the plan most days.

"I'll ask around about the Shadow, but mostly I want to look for this Walter," Charity said. "I got the feeling that he knew more than the others. But there's a slim chance that he'll be back at the shelter. However, there may be someone there who knows where he lives. He mentioned a mother, so he might have an address."

"I thought these kids at the shelter were homeless," Darkwing wondered.

"Many are, but there are some who just don't feel safe at home," Charity said, her voice turning soft. "The shelter welcomes all no matter their circumstances."

The car was silent after that.

When they arrived at the Youth Shelter, Charity parked and fed the meter before grabbing Bunny from the back seat. "I don't know how long I'll be. Talking to these kids can be like running in circles, but hopefully there are some that trust me enough to give me some straight answers." She tossed Darkwing her keys and dropped her bag in the front seat. "You can listen to the radio. And there's some water and snacks in the bag if you want any." Then she left.

Darkwing slouched back down in his seat, mostly to hide from any passersby who might gawk at him, but mostly because he sort of regretted getting himself in this situation. He wasn't unfamiliar with stake-outs—and he had the patience to sit and watch out for bad-guys for days—but he felt more like a child left in the car while his mother ran errands.

Then his stomach growled, and he remembered that he had skipped breakfast save for a cup of coffee. He had been doing that too much lately, and he had lost weight due to the break in his routine. Reluctantly, he grabbed the bag that Charity left and looked through it. Although he heard water bottles sloshing and snack wrappers crinkling, they weren't what caught his attention first.

He pulled out a worn paperback that was at the top of the bag. He read the title: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. It was one of his favorites from the mystery writer. He preferred Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but Christie had her own charm and appeal in her style. The bookmark that hung out of the pages like a tongue was near the end.

He opened it at the bookmark, reading a few paragraphs as he recalled what part of the book it was. He read longer since it was at the best part, old memories coming back to him. After finishing the chapter, he put it back, coming across yet another book within the bag.

So, Miss Loveatte was a book lover; someone who couldn't go anywhere without at least a book and a back-up. He recalled their first conversation they had, he as Drake Mallard and mistakenly thinking she was a blind date. They had talked about Jane Austin's books, her against their merits and he defending them.

Then he pulled out the other book and gasped. He read the title Four and Twenty Blackbirds, the latest in a series of detective thriller books by his favorite modern author. This was number eleven in the series, and he hadn't realized it had been released in bookstores yet. He had been waiting months to find out what happened to the hero of the story, which had been left in a precarious position in the previous book.

The book was in pristine condition as if it hadn't even been cracked open. There wasn't even a bookmark in it. Which meant that Charity had yet to read any of it. And the fact that she brought it with her meant that she had hopes of starting it.

But…she wasn't reading it at the moment. So if Darkwing were to start it, that should be fine, right?

He slouched down even more in his seat, bringing his knees up against the dashboard and propping the hardcover against his legs so that he was somewhat comfortable and out of sight. Eagerly he started reading the book, his eyes darting back and forth across each page. He was well within the fourth chapter when the sound of the door opening jerked him out of the story he had immersed himself into. He blinked and sat up as Charity directed Bunny into the car, the dog growling once more as he spotted Darkwing in the passenger seat. He looked at the dashboard clock, surprised that she had been gone for almost two hours.

"Did you learn anything?" Darkwing asked as Charity climbed into the driver's seat.

Charity rubbed her forehead. "A little. Rosa's little brother hasn't been the only one taken by this Shadow. But it seems that street kids have only been taken around the park and only at night, so there's that." She reached for her bag, taking out a plastic water bottle and opening it. "As for Walter, nobody has seen him since…is that my book?" Her eyes locked onto the hardcover.

"Uh…I hope that's its okay that I started reading it," Darkwing said, trying not to act guilty. Why did he feel like he had just been caught stealing?"

"It's fine. But if you spoil it for me, you're sitting in the back with Bunny," Charity said, although the corner of her mouth went up.

Bunny grumbled as if he was sharing his opinion of her joke.

"Sorry. I have been waiting for this book to come out for a long time," Darkwing said. "I've been so busy lately, I hadn't realized it came out yet."

"Last week," Charity said, turning on her car. "Normally I'd have consumed the book in a day, but things have been so stressful lately, I find that I haven't been able to read. I actually forgot the book was still in my bag from when I bought it."

Darkwing nodded, casting glances at the lovebird. He hadn't stopped to notice before, but Charity had bags under her eyes. He remembered his own sleepless nights when he worried about a certain case or the stress of people counting on him kept him up. He still worried and stressed, but he had trained his body to get sleep when he could. He couldn't fight crime if he was too sleepy to keep his eyes open. But Charity didn't have the advantage of his training. She wasn't used to the life of a crime-fighter.

Yet she was still trying to do the right thing

He couldn't help but admire her for what she was willing to do.

"So, what's next?" Darkwing asked, putting the book back in Charity's bag. He didn't feel as if he had lost control of the situation, but felt as if he were working with Launchpad and Gosalyn again but different. Launchpad had always been his sidekick, and Gosalyn was his daughter. There was a clear, defining line between the two of them, but they had the same goal.

"I thought we would go check out the church that's downtown. The nuns there spend a lot of time with the homeless, and I know a few of the teens go there for food and other things. I'm hoping that we can get some information that they wouldn't disclose to the police," Charity said. "Although we're going to have to make a stop first."

"Where?"

"Hmmm, what do you think: Hamburger Hippo's or Mini Czar's?" Charity asked with a bit of humor.

"Are you hungry?" Darkwing asked, which only reminded him of his quest for snacks and had been distracted by the mystery books. He wondered if it would be rude if he ate the snacks now with Charity around.

"No, but a small offering is often useful in these kinds of situations," Charity said. "And plus, it is about lunchtime."

After deciding burgers would be easier to hand out than slices of pizza, Charity went through the fast food's drive-thru and bought over a dozen hamburgers. She ate one and handed one to Darkwing who gratefully ate it.

They headed for downtown, which was divided into two sections: the tourist area that was filled with nice restaurants, attractions for visitors, a lovely park and business and government buildings. On the other side, the streets were lined with old apartment buildings, homes that were in desperate need of repair, and many abandoned buildings. It was a whole different world, only divided by a few streets.

The church they were after was right in the middle of the bad part of town. People on the streets kept their heads down and avoided eye-contact. One man was laying in the shade of an awning with no shirt or shoes, drunk or homeless or both; pedestrians stepping over him. Graffiti decorated every surface, displaying either gang or tagger names, crude words, or startlingly artistic designs by the rare individual who had something in mind other than territory or anger.

Darkwing sighed as Charity found a spot in the shade. "I guess it's waiting for me again," he muttered. He picked up Charity's book again. "Do you mind?"

"No," Charity said, gathering Bunny's leash again. "Or you can come with me?"

"Won't I scare everyone away?" Darkwing asked in a grumpy voice.

Charity smirked. "Well…maybe not so much here. You can at least help the nuns out if you want."

Darkwing was tempted to stay in the car just for the opportunity to read. But the day was getting hot, and soon the car would be over one hundred degrees. He put the book down and followed Charity, although he retrieved his hat from the back seat. No point in going in under-dressed.

The soup kitchen wasn't what Darkwing expected. He had volunteered at places like this before, and he thought that it would be similar to a small cafeteria where people would line up, pick up the disposable bowl and cutlery before a nun ladled a helping of soup and another would give them a roll or a chunk of bread. He imagined mostly homeless men, maybe a few single women and several families. But he was surprised that the crowd was mostly of the female variety and on the younger side. Charity later explained to him that most of the homeless at this time of the day were either panhandling or going to jobs and the larger crowd would be in during dinner time. These ladies had much different lifestyle and their work hours tended to be late at night.

And they were not in the least bit afraid of Darkwing Duck. On the contrary, they were all smiles and giggles and winks as Charity introduced him to the women who were sitting down and enjoying their lunch. Even with the soup in front of them, many didn't say no to Charity's offering of burgers to supplement their meal.

Darkwing had never seen so many sequins, fishnet stockings or miniskirts all at one time, and the variety of colors that painted eye-lids and lips were astounding. But he didn't let what they did bother him. He sat down and politely conversed with the women, answering their many questions, taking their shameless flirtations in stride and tried not to blush at some of their invitations. He always knew that this sort of thing happened in St. Canard, but he always lumped it with the rest of crime that the police dealt with on a daily basis. But as he talked to the women, he wondered just how many had turned to prostitution out of desperation. He couldn't imagine that any of them chose this life out of desire. He could see that a few of the women had bruises and scratches on their arms and faces. And despite the makeup and grown-up clothing, he was certain some were not over the age of eighteen.

And he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to fix everything so that nobody would ever have to do something like this just to survive, but he was helpless. What could he do? He couldn't force the women to stop, and he knew how many Johns the police picked up, but there would always be more. He realized that places like the church and the Youth Shelter offered opportunities to help people in need, and would help these women if they ever wanted out of this kind of life.

It also made him feel very lucky to have his house, to have Gosalyn and Launchpad, but also that he was Gosalyn's dad and he could provide for her and help her throughout her life so she would never have to go through these kinds of hardships. At least, he hoped that he would be there for her for a long, long time.

"Hey, Darkwing, do you want to help us settle a bet?" one woman—her name was Bambi—asked, a wide smile on her face. She didn't wait for him to reply before asking, "So, why do you wear the mask? Are you disfigured or somethin'? Candy thinks you ugly."

"I didn't say that," a disgruntled hen with a high voice protested. Her feathers were dyed cotton candy pink, which might be where she got her name. "I was just wondering if perhaps you had a traumatic childhood accident which was why you decided to put on the mask and dedicate your life to help people. But you're too ashamed of your scars so you hide them away. That is, except to people you trust the most." Her voice turned low, and she looked up into his face with wide, yearning eyes.

Darkwing gulped. He hadn't felt so flushed since Morgana and he had been a couple.

"You be careful there, big boy," a decorated duck called out. Her name was Shakara, and by her build and deep voice, she wasn't always a woman. "Candy's going to want you to take off more than your mask for her."

The table erupted in raucous laughter.

Darkwing knew he had an ego, but even he knew not to get a swelled head at all this attention. He wasn't even sure if he could talk normally, so he remained silent.

"You girls will go ga-ga for anyone," one girl said. She kept to the edges of the table, and she had yet to participate in the flirting. "You won't think he's so handsome when he's arresting you for being on the corner."

"Don't be such a pill, Trinket," Bambi said, waving the girl off. "We're just having a good time."

"He's not that cute," Trinket sneered. She took a drag from her cigarette despite one of the nuns asking her not to smoke while in the church. "He's too short, and he has a big beak."

Darkwing kept his mouth shut, feeling his ego lowering at the woman's comment. She had hit him where it hurt. He always thought that his bill was too large, and he hated whenever anyone pointed it out.

Bambi didn't skip a beat, and said, "Well, you know what they say about ducks with big bills."

That sent the table once more bursting into laughter, their eyes wide and giving Darkwing side glances and winks. Even Trinket was laughing.

Darkwing's face turned the brightest shade of red and he fought the urge to wrap himself up in his cape and use a gas grenade to escape the embarrassing situation. He was starting to feel a bit degraded, but then he recalled just who these women were. If he felt degraded by a few of their comments, how did they feel every day?

He looked over to Charity, who was shaking with suppressed laughter, her beak pressed together to keep from making any sound. He gave her a pleading look.

"Okay, ladies, that's enough," Charity said with a serious expression. "This is a church after all."

That was enough for the whole table to somber. A few of them even crossed themselves, bowed their heads and uttered a small prayer of apology. Trinket stubbed out her cigarette.

"The reason I brought Darkwing here wasn't so you could ogle him," Charity said. "I think all of you have heard about the missing children from the news."

The women looked to Charity with focused attention.

"While the police are doing all they can, Darkwing noticed the connection between the abductions and several missing foster children who were thought to be run-aways," Charity said, leaving out that she was the one who came to this conclusion first. "He thought that perhaps kids from the streets were also disappearing, and that there might be a connection. He asked me for help, and I thought that you might be able to provide information."

"Kids disappear from the streets every day," Trinket said. "You want to find them? Look in the gutter. Or the bay. That's where perverts throw them when they're done."

The comment made Darkwing feel sick. He clenched his fists at the thought of anyone treating a child in such a way.

"We think that many of the kids who have disappeared are being held somewhere," Charity said, diplomatically ignoring Trinket. "We have heard about someone called the Shadow might be taking them, perhaps in a misplaced desire to save them from something. Have any of you heard of the Shadow."

"If he's saving them from this hellhole," Trinket said, "then stay out of his way. The only reason you care in the first place is because a few rich kids disappeared and suddenly it's a big deal. Where were you when they first started going missing?" She aimed this question to Darkwing Duck.

"Shut the hell up, Trinket," Bambi shouted, slamming her hands on the table and standing up. "If Miss Charity is askin' us for help, we're going to help. You know just as much as the rest of us that she's always comin' around and askin' for missin' kids, and if there is anyone in this room who gives a damn about street kids, it's her. I wish that when I ran away from home that someone like her came lookin' for me and cared about me, because then I wouldn't be turnin' tricks."

Trinket lowered her head, cowed by the lecture.

Bambi turned back to Charity, nodded her head in an invitation to continue.

Charity nodded back. "We've figured out that the Shadow takes kids that are around the park and only at night, so if any of you have been around there, please talk to me or Darkwing. Or if you remember anything or see anything after we leave, you can call me day or night." Charity reached into her purse and pulled out several business cards to put on the table. "Also, I'm looking for a boy named Walter. He's not in trouble, but I think he has information about the missing kids. I mentioned that I was a social worker and he ran away. I'm not trying to put him in the system. I just want to talk to him."

"Everyone here will help if they can," Bambi promised, and several head nodded with her words. "But I don't think we're going to be much help. But I'll spread the word to anyone I meet about this Shadow guy and Walter."

"That's all I ask," Charity said. "I'm going to talk to the nuns and the priest to see if they've heard anything." She stood up from the table before pointing at Darkwing. "No more teasing him, okay girls?"

"Okay," they chorused in a sing-song, giggling.

Darkwing wasn't sure if they would keep their promise, so he left the table too, needing a moment to breath. However, he was followed.

"Darkwing?" the high voice of Candy called, tapping his shoulder.

"Yes?" he asked, worried about what she wanted.

"I didn't want to say in front of the others, but I think I know that boy you're looking for," Candy said, fiddling with her mini-skirt. "I think it's the same Walter. I see him at the Youth Shelter sometimes."

Darkwing was flabbergasted. Candy was that young?! He thought she was older. He was divided by two emotions: aghast that she had been flirting with him and a strong, fatherly desire to protect her as he would Gosalyn.

"Walter was telling me that he got this really good job. I think he finds kids for the Shadow and he gets paid," Candy said. "But it's not how it sounds. Walter said that they're being taken some place good, some place where nobody bad can hurt them. Walter talks about it all the time. He even said that if he works hard enough for the Shadow, Walter can join the other kids even though he's too old."

"Do you know where Walter is?" Darkwing asked, eager for the answer.

"He's usually at the shelter on Tuesdays. That's when I go in and pick up some free condoms," Candy said. "Sometimes I see him here at the church, but not lately. He's really a good kid. His mom is just a druggie and knocks him around some."

"Why did he run away when Charity said she was a social worker?" Darkwing asked. "She can help him."
"He's afraid that he's going to be given to his grandparents," Candy said. "His mom is pretty bad, but from what I hear, they're even worse. It's no wonder he has a crap mom."

"What about his dad?"

"No show," Candy shrugged. "Same old story, huh?"

A pit of despair grew in Darkwing's stomach. He had been given a bitter taste of reality, and it was something that wouldn't be going away any time soon.

"If you find Walter, you're not going to take him away, are you?" Candy asked.

Darkwing wasn't all that certain, so he repeated what Charity said. "We just want to talk to him."

Candy considered her next words. "Lately Walter's been hanging out near the bus station on Route 15. He's mentioned it a few times, even asked me to keep him company some days. I don't know what he does, but you might find him there."

Darkwing nodded, grateful for the girl's help. "Please, if you see him, call Miss Charity," Darkwing said. "And if you're in trouble…if someone hurts you or anyone else that you know, call her, too. And she'll call me, and I'll come take care of him."

The young hen smiled with a world's worth of experience behind her eyes. "I was gonna ask you to come see me, but I don't think you're the type. You're a really good guy." She quickly gave him a peck on the cheek and skipped off.

Charity soon came along with Bunny at her heels, the dog having gotten enough scratches and pets from the girls while Charity had been talking to the nuns. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Almost," Darkwing said, reaching into his pocket for the spare cash he kept for gas, food and other necessities while on duty. He handed it over to the nearest nun, pressing it deep into her hand.

"Oh, thank you, sir," the nun said with a bright smile. "God bless you."

"No, God bless them," he said, nodding his head to the girls. "I'm blessed enough."

Charity walked by his side back to the car, keeping silent until they were inside the vehicle. "It's always hard on the first visit."

Darkwing unclenched his fists. "It's…quite a lot to take in."

"You were a really good sport about it," Charity said. "It's nice for them to have something…or someone to laugh at. I haven't seen so many genuine smiles from them in such a long time."

"You've been helping them alot?" Darkwing asked.

"Well, some of them. This isn't a profession known for its perks," Charity said. "Some girls will move to different spots or even cities, trying to find greener pastures. Some find a pimp that will tell them where to go and what to do. Others end up in the morgue. These girls try to take care of each other. The church doesn't hand out any kind of birth control, so I bring them condoms and give them information on regular STD testing. Once in a while, I convince one to try out a program or find a legitimate job. Really the goal is to help not judge."

"How long have you been a social worker?" Darkwing asked.

Charity thought for a little bit. "About eight years." She reached out and touched Darkwing's shoulder. "Thanks for coming with me. We didn't get much but I'm certain that the girls will help if they can."

"Actually we may have something," Darkwing said, and he repeated what Candy had told him.

"It's better than what we have now," Charity said. "How about we—" She stopped in mid-sentence, focusing on something just outside her window.

A girl slinked toward the car, and they both soon saw that it was Trinket. Her arms were folded and her eyes were darting here and there as she approached the car.

Bunny put his front legs on the back window sill, sticking his head out to sniff at the girl with his stubby tail wagging.

Charity got out of the car so that she could talk to the girl face-to-face. She waited for Trinket to speak first.

"It's about that Shadow guy, the one who's takin' all the kids," Trinket said quickly, looking off to the side. "I think I know where ya can find him."

"You do?" Charity asked, her voice eager. "Where?"

"I really shouldn't tell ya," Trinket said, taking a step back. "He's good to the little kids. You really should just leave things alone."

"Trinket, I'm sure you've heard a lot of things, but a lot of parents are worried about the kids," Charity said calmly. "And the fact that we haven't heard back from any of them might be an indication that this is all a lie. What if any of the kids get sick? Or hurt? What if they need to go to the hospital? Do you think this Shadow is going to risk letting them get some help?"

Trinket usually had hard eyes but they softened at Charity's hypothetical scenario. She hugged herself tighter, shaking her head.

"Please, just tell me," Charity said. "I promise that I won't tell anyone that you told me."

After a while, Trinket let out a sigh before whispering. "You can find him at the docks. He hangs around some bar around midnight. I don't know what it's called, but there's a statue of a mermaid outside of it."

Charity nodded, touching the girl's shoulder. "Thanks. This was a big help."

Trinket bit her lip before rushing away, not even reacting to Charity's words.

Getting back into the car, Charity looked to Darkwing. "Did you hear all that?"

Darkwing nodded.

"It looks like we have two big leads now," Charity said, leaning her head back. "And the day's just barely started." She checked her watch, showing that it was almost one o' clock. "I have a few hours until I have to pick up Gosalyn. What do you think? Should we go see if this mysterious bar even exists or check out the bus station?"

"Bus station." Darkwing said. "When I checked Musman's phone records, the call he made to whom I'm assuming is this Shadow person, it was to a payphone. I didn't check the map to see if the payphone is inside the bus station, but the address is definitely on Route 15."

"Bus station it is," Charity said. "How are you holding up, Bunny?"

The little Corgi gave a whisper bark, sitting up to attention. He still glowered at Darkwing, but was very happy to be spending the day with his mistress.

"Then off we go."

Gosalyn kicked the ball as hard as she could, sending it far into left field where Tammy wasn't paying attention enough to catch such an easy fly ball. She gave Honker a thumbs up—since he had suggested the play based on his calculations of players stats—and raced to first base. The runner in front of her continued from second to third, and Gosalyn decided to go for it. She buzzed through first base and kept the momentum going as she rounded on second.

Tammy managed to chase down the ball and throw it to the second baseman, Roger. His foot was planted on the base and ready to catch the ball. Gosalyn slid, hoping she made it.

"You're out, Gosalyn," Roger said triumphantly.

Gosalyn jumped up. "Nu-uh. I totally made that."

"You're out!" Roger shouted back.

Several other kids chimed in their opinions, although most were bias towards their own team.

There was a whistle from the teacher on recess duty. "Okay, kids. Break it up," he said, shaking his head. "Gosalyn, I was watching, and Roger did get the ball before you touched base."

Gosalyn's shoulders sagged, although she accepted the ruling. But leave it to the teacher to take all the fun out of arguing with the other team. That was the best part. And Roger was really good at arguing. Sometimes he would pretend to throw down his glove—he didn't have one since they were only playing kickball—and jump up and down on it while screaming at the umpire—they didn't have one except for Honker, and he usually was reading or playing chess and not paying attention.

Heading back to the benches, Gosalyn sat down and eagerly waited for her team to all have their turns at kicking before they would switch to the outfield. She liked being pitcher, but everyone agreed to take turns, so she would probably be first baseman or catcher in her next turn.

"Come on, Tina. Hit it out of the park," Gosalyn shouted to her classmate who was up to kick next. It was then that she heard the sound of someone sobbing. She turned to see a girl crying on the grass near the basketball court and several of her friends surrounding and comforting the girl.

She knew what that was all about. Melissa Vann, one of the children who were snatched yesterday, had been the girl's best friend. It had been all everyone had talked about, including how the police had been questioning anyone who knew Melissa. It was a somber reminder that while they were all having fun playing kickball, there were parents and kids missing family members.

It reminded her of Simon, how he was taken yesterday as well. She was glad her dad was investigating the case, but she should be working with him. It wasn't fair that she wasn't helping him. She was certain that if she was on the case, she would have found those missing kids by now.

"I hate being a foster kid," she muttered while crossing her arms and slouching down on the bench.

"Yeah, I know," a boy next to her said. "It really sucks."

Gosalyn's eyes slid to the boy. He wasn't in her class but he often played kickball or basketball or any of the other games she played with everyone. She remembered that he had a bit of a temper and sometimes said bad words, but he was really good at basketball. She quickly recalled that his name was Caleb.

She didn't know he was a foster kid, too. Although, she still didn't see herself as a foster kid. She knew her dad would get her back eventually. She just had to be patient. But in the meantime, it wasn't bad staying at Charity's apartment. And it wasn't as if she didn't get to see Darkwing at all, although she missed Launchpad.

"Wouldn't it be great if there weren't any adults," Caleb said, looking at her.

"Well…I guess," Gosalyn said. Maybe not all adults, but some of them she could do without.

"I hate my foster home," Caleb said, clenching his fists. "They pretend to be all caring and wanting to help me, but they're really in it for the money. How can they say that they care when they're being paid to be my family?"

Gosalyn sat up, deciding to nod her head but not say anything. She didn't agree with what he said, but he did have a point.

"So, what's your foster family like? They totally fake? Or do they yell at ya and make ya do chores all day?" Caleb asked.

Gosalyn really didn't have anything bad to say about Charity, but she felt if she said that, the boy would say something rude or call her names. She usually didn't shy away from the truth and never let comments or insults keep her down, but there was something about this boy that made her sit up and pay attention.

"It's okay, I guess," Gosalyn muttered non-committedly.

Caleb snorted. "I thought so." He nodded over to the crying girl. "They don't know it, but Melissa's in a better place. Her friends, they have everything, they have loving parents." His tone was sneering. "They don't know what we go through. But she's better off now, even better than they are. She's probably having the best time of her life without any adults telling her what to do."

Gosalyn's eyes widened. She remembered how her dad told her to keep her eyes and ears open for any suspicious people or for information, but she never thought she would get a lead from a kid. And a kid from her own school.

"Where did she go?" Gosalyn asked, her heart beating faster.

"Never-never-land," Caleb said with a smile. "And I'm gonna go there, too. He promised me that I could go soon."

"Who promised you?" Gosalyn asked.

"Peter Pan's shadow." And Caleb looked happy. Not happy in a dark way, but light and hopeful. He had looked brooding before, but now he looked like a normal kid. "He's going to take me there."

This is it, Gosalyn thought. This is how I can help Dad. We're going to find the missing kids.

"Are you sure?" Gosalyn asked, sounding skeptical. "Doesn't that sound a little babyish? Never-never-land and Peter Pan. That's totally made up." She hoped that by challenging the boy, she could get more information from him. It worked on her dad.

"It's not made up," Caleb said angrily. "I talked to him. He's real. The Shadow is real. And I'm going to Never-never-land and never have to grow up."

"Sure?" Gosalyn said while rolling her eyes. "I wish that were the truth. I would go there in an instant."

"You would?" Caleb said. He looked hopeful. "Would you go with me, Gosalyn? I want to go, but I don't want to go alone." Despite his tough attitude earlier, he did look a little apprehensive.

Gosalyn shrugged. "Sure. When are we going? Today?"

"No. Because Melissa disappeared from school yesterday, cops are always watching," Caleb said. "But he said if I meet him at the park tomorrow night, maybe he'll have room for me. Maybe he'll have room for you as well."

"The park? Like the one downtown?" Gosalyn asked. She wasn't allowed there by herself at night.

Caleb nodded. "We could meet tomorrow and go there together. It's a real adventure, Gosalyn. Even better than the movies." He gave her a smile. "Promise you'll go with me." He held out a pinky.

Gosalyn hooked fingers with him. "Promise." And hopefully Darkwing Duck would also be going with her.

All Steelbeak wanted was a trip down to the Pokonos to lounge in the sun and drink. Yet, here he was again in the cold wilderness of Canada, wrapped in a parka and wool underwear just to keep him from getting frost bite. Even though he had been at that same exact spot only a few days ago, he was certain it was at least twenty degrees colder and that there was an extra foot of snow on the ground.

"I hate this place," Steelbeak muttered. "I hate the cold. I hate the snow. This is literally hell on earth."

"You're in a rather grumpy mood today, Mr. Steelbeak," Gyro said, looking concerned. "But I'm sure your friend will be very glad to see you."

Doubt it, Steelbeak thought. Although he had now fulfilled his side of the bargain and brought Taurus Bulba exactly what he wanted, he was certain that the bull cyborg would have just as much contempt for his visitors.

"Go ring the doorbell," Steelbeak said to the nearest eggman once they had tromped through the snow to the domed home of Bulba. They had to leave the warmth of the car almost a half-mile away because the snow plows only worked on the public roads.

The eggman—who had been present the last time they paid a call to the bull—shook his head. However, a clear gesture from Steelbeak indicated what would happen to him if he didn't obey, and that was enough to convince him to approach the front door. After pressing the doorbell, the eggman flinched, prepared for the trap to capture him. However, to everyone's surprise—except for Gyro, who observed the strange behavior with his usual curiosity—the front door merely opened and Bulba stepped onto the threshold.

"Ah, it appears that you are true to your word, Steelbeak," Bulba said congenially. "You have brought the genius mind of Dr. Gearloose to aid me. Please, do come in and make yourself at home."

Steelbeak stayed at the rear; he wasn't sure how Gyro would react to the situation, and he was surprised that the scientist wasn't asking questions or had become suspicious this entire time. He had been expecting the rooster to protest or maybe even make a break for it, and he had a hard time believing that things were going so well for him. He even held his breath as Gyro walked through the doorway, preparing for the unexpected from the world's most innovative mind.

And when nothing happened, Steelbeak began to worry. Either Gyro wanted to go inside because he was planning something else, or the rooster was honestly the most naïve and innocent person on the face of this planet.

Was Steelbeak really that lucky?

"Wow. You have quite the home," Gyro said, adjusting his glasses and looking around the dome. "I noticed that the dome is covered with solar panels. Are you completely self-sustaining?"

"For the most part, yes, Dr. Gearloose," Bulba said congenially. "Not only does it provide all the power I need, but I also grow my own food in my greenhouse. Although there are a few luxury items that my assistant brings me on a weekly basis. Can I get you something to drink? Tea or coffee? I grow both myself."

"Oh, I don't partake of stimulants," Dr. Gearloose said. "It makes me jittery. But I could use some water."

"Of course," Bulba said. "The water is the purest I have ever tasted, taken from a reservoir several hundred feet underground and not despoiled by chemicals. Much better for you than city water."

"Absolutely," Gyro said. "I've been working on a filtration process that can take out a larger percentage of particles from water. It seems that even in first world countries like the United States, drinking water is sometimes unavailable. Most filtration and treatment plants use filters that just can't get all toxins out and they resort to chemicals to make it safe, but who knows what effects prolonged usage of those chemicals can have on a person's body. But imagine how better the world would be if everyone can have clean, filtered water by using a filter so small, one just needs to put it on top of a glass of water before pouring their drinks." Gyro rambled longer about his thought process and what he had worked on so far, and Bulba listened with polite attentiveness as he passed glasses of water to the scientist, eggmen and Steelbeak.

Steelbeak, meanwhile, was trying not to fall asleep. He wasn't that tired; he had slept on the plane ride over the border, but there was something about Gyro's chatter that made him want to fall into a coma. The only thing keeping him awake was the cold air inside the building, which felt to be only a little bit warmer than the outside.

"That is very interesting," Bulba said once Gyro had ended his explanation. "Your invention would make you and Mr. McDuck millions of dollars."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about making money," Gyro said, frowning. "I just want to solve a problem and help people. But I suppose I will need Mr. McDuck's help with the financial side of things."

"A philanthropist and a genius. You are quite the man, Dr. Gearloose," Bulba said. "It is an honor that you have agreed to help me out with my condition. I do apologize for the temperature in my house. Most people find the cold uncomfortable, but I unfortunately must keep my thermostat low to prevent myself from overheating."

"I did notice your…er…unique condition," Gyro said, gesturing to the half of Bulba that was no longer organic. "May I?"

"Please," Bulba said. He unbuttoned his coat, then his shirt, exposing his arms and chest, and the rest of his metallic parts.

Gyro walked around the bull, eyes darting around and making little humming noises as he inspected the cyborg. With deft hands, he traced the panels and fingered the pieces that connected to soft tissue. "This is very interesting. I haven't seen anything like this before. This goes far beyond a prosthetic. This is…who exactly did all this?"

"It was a group project done by a series of scientist," Steelbeak answered. He really didn't know their names. He couldn't be bothered to remember pawns.

"Why don't you get them to make the repairs?" Gyro asked. "They obviously would be better equipped and educated in these matters. I was expecting a robotic prosthetics, but this is bigger than I imagined. I don't know anything about artificial organs and…and…I don't even know what to call this. Organic and robotic working together as if they were one. I don't think I can help out. I'm sorry, Mr…Gosh, I don't even know your name."

"Bulba. Taurus Bulba."

Gyro's eyes widened and he took a step back. "You? You're Taurus Bulba?" He looked afraid for the first time.

"You know of me?" Bulba asked, standing up to his full height.

Gyro's eyebrows lowered. "Dr. Waddlemeyer was a friend of mine."

"Oh, so you were familiar with the good doctor, were you?" Bulba asked, starting to put his shirt back on.

"Yes, and I remember the name of his murderer very well," Gyro said, taking another step back. "So you'll understand when I say that not only will I not be helping you, but I'll also be informing the police of your location."

"I doubt you'll have the chance, doc," Steelbeak said with a smirk. "You see, I brought you here as a personal favor to Taurus Bulba, and I'm not gonna leave until he's in fighting-fit condition, capeesh?"

"But…you said you're a friend of Mr. McDuck," Gyro said, now realizing just how much in trouble he was.

"I may have exaggerated the details," Steelbeak said with a shrug. "The important thing to take away from this, doc, is that you're gonna to do what we asked and you ain't gonna give us any trouble, or else we're gonna have to find a doc for you, doc."