“Seeing Micha, catching a glimpse of him, I suppose that could have been purely coincidental, completely meaningless.”
Neither one of us really bought that. “Nah.”
“Jefferson’s charge,” Goose began. “If charge is the right word for someone guarded by an angel, we don’t know anything about him. The kid, I mean.”
“Right.”
“Now, Daniel’s ward, to use another description, I can tell you all kinds of wonderful things about that guy. He’s a big, beautiful, burly, bespectacled, bushy bearded, redheaded sweetie pie of a man.”
Goose had touched a fingertip to my bare flesh with each characteristic on the list, bringing a tingle where he’d tapped, and also up my spine. “Someone I know?” I asked.
“Someone I love,” he said. “We really need to find out the kid’s name.”
We’d tried. Because the boy who’d gone off the bridge out west was a minor, he hadn’t been identified.
“There has to be some search route we haven’t been down.” When I reached for my phone, Goose stopped me.