Page 22 of Rescuing Sara

“Absolutely, Mrs. M.,” Danni assured her. “Hang on and I’ll set it up for us so I can use my laptop. I didn’t know you were familiar with this kind of technology.”

“When you have grandkids, you learn to keep up,” Mrs. M. declared. “Send met the link.”

“Mrs. M?” Patrick asked.

Danni smiled. “You’ll see.”

A moment later the image of a slender, youthful woman with silver hair flashed on Danni’s laptop screen. “Danni, I hate to bother you,” she began. “I know you’re busy–”

“Don’t be silly, Mrs. M.,” Danni chided. “I’m never too busy to talk to you.” Heart pumping with anticipation, she pulled her chair closer to the desk. “Have you heard anything about Sara? Heardfromher?”

“Don’t I wish,” the woman sighed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “But I thought you might want to know that Mr. Turner fired me late yesterday.”

“Good heavens, why?” Danni stared at her friend in disbelief. “What reason did he give?”

“He says if I’d been at home to meet Sara when she got off the bus that day, no one would have taken her,” Mrs. M.’s voice tremored with anger. “That this is all my fault.”

“But that’s crazy!” Danni insisted. “You told him you were caught in that traffic snarl, didn’t you? A ginormous Second Harvest Food Truck turned over and you were stuck for over an hour.”

“That’s right.” The older woman choked. I told Mr. Turner that but it didn’t matter. He said if I’d been home, this never would have happened.”

“Can I get an introduction here?” Patrick cut in. “I might have a question or two I’d like to ask this lovely lady.”

“Sorry,” Danni apologized. “Fiona McGillicuddy, this is my friend, Patrick Danton, who’s going to help us find Sara. Patrick, this is Mrs. Fiona McGillicuddy, aka Mrs. M.”

“I’m happy to meet you, ma’am,” Patrick said. “Why Mrs. M? Does Sara call you that?”

“She does.” Mrs. M. managed a smile. “She was four when I started working for her grandfather and she couldn’t get her tongue around a mouthful of a name like McGillicuddy, so I became Mrs. M.”

“Mrs. M always meets Sara at the school bus stop,” Danni explained. “And then they walk back to the house to have tea.”

“She’s getting very good at making scones and cream puffs,” Mrs. M. said proudly. “And she never complains about the washing up.”

“Sounds like my kind of young lady,” Patrick praised. “And that you take very good care of Sara, Mrs.

His kindness broke any reserve she had left, and Mrs. M. began to cry. Frustration curled Danni’s fingers into fists as she watched the woman fight to gain control of herself. Patrick’s hand on Danni’s shoulder brought a measure of comfort and her heart’s rapid pace began to slow into a steady rhythm.

“It’s his fault,” Mrs. M. finally huffed, wiping her face with a quickly produced handkerchief. “If Mr. High-and-Mighty-Turner had let Sara have a phone, she could have called for help.”

“Not to support him, but a lot of parents and guardians don’t let kids as young as eleven have phones,” Patrick pointed out, and Danni was pleased he’d remember ten-year-old Sara’s birthday was coming soon. She would like that.

“Aye, and that’s the irony of it all.” A steely anger replaced Mrs. M.’s sorrow. “That day I was caught in the traffic snarl? I was coming back from buying Sara a phone as an early birthday present.”

“Oh, dear,” Danni propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands. “Really?”

“I had it set up with passwords and all the blocks in place so she wouldn’t go searching places she has no business going. She’s smart, but I’m smarter. Having grandkids, I learned long ago how to do that. They’re always amazed when I find out what they’re up to and confront ‘em with it.”

Patrick’s ringing laugh lightened some of the tension in the room. “Every kid should have a Mrs. M. for a grandmother,” he declared. “I used to think mine could read my mind, so if I evenconsidereddoing something wrong, they’d know about it before I tried.”

Their shared laughter brought them another layer of comfort. “There’s something else, Danni,” Mrs. M. said. “I found Sara’s diary about an hour before her granddad sacked me and found something in it that might help.”

“Do you have it?” Danni sat up so quickly her chair wobbled. “The diary, I mean.”

“That I do,” Mrs. M. declared, holding up an old-fashioned diary bound with a metal hasp. “Himself doesn’t know I took it,may not even know she kept one, but since he’s doing precious little to find her, I don’t care. He’s already sacked me.”

“Have you read it?” Patrick asked and Danni heard the eagerness in his voice.He’s excited too. He cares about finding Sara.

“Yes.” Mrs. M.’s raised chin suggested a stubbornness she shared with her charge. “I can take pictures of the pages I thought were most important and send them to your phone and laptop.”

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