Father of the Brat
“Without seeing, he stared at the ceiling and wondered where Rachel could have gone. She hadn’t been at the church on 86th. And none of the kids who had made it there to spend a night out of the cold had seen any sign of her. Evidently, his daughter had simply disappeared from the face of the planet. Either that, he thought, or she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Never before had such a cliché seemed all too possible a reality.
At this point, Carver was literally worried sick about her. His stomach was clenched tighter than a rock, his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, and there was a knot of tension in his neck he wasn’t sure would ever loosen. He was certain he had aged ten years in ten hours. Ever since Rachel’s arrival in his life, he had begun to feel like a very old man.
The streets of Philadelphia at this time of night weren’t safe for anyone—not for a six-foot, 180-pound investigative reporter who’d called the city home for two decades, not for a hard...-bitten social worker who’d seen it all in some of the roughest neighborhoods there were, and certainly not for some twelve-year-old girl who didn’t even know her way around.MoreLess
At this point, Carver was literally worried sick about her. His stomach was clenched tighter than a rock, his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, and there was a knot of tension in his neck he wasn’t sure would ever loosen. He was certain he had aged ten years in ten hours. Ever since Rachel’s arrival in his life, he had begun to feel like a very old man.
The streets of Philadelphia at this time of night weren’t safe for anyone—not for a six-foot, 180-pound investigative reporter who’d called the city home for two decades, not for a hard...-bitten social worker who’d seen it all in some of the roughest neighborhoods there were, and certainly not for some twelve-year-old girl who didn’t even know her way around.MoreLess
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