Bloodlines

Jack had been O’Co

“I told the old man the truth,” she said when O’Co

He knew of no one who talked back to Mr. Wrigley the way Helen Swan did. He remained in awe of her.

It had taken him a while to realize that there was a strong friendship beneath the rivalry between Helen and Jack. In the spring of 1936, she left the paper for a little more than a year, not long after Jack’s car accident. O’Co

O’Co

O’Co

Helen stared at him, apparently just realizing he was in the room. “I thought the hospital didn’t allow kids under sixteen into patients’ rooms.”

“They don’t,” Jack said. “But the doctors ran some tests and figured out that O’Co

“All right,” she said, coming to her feet, “bowing to his seniority, I’ll do as Co

“No, don’t go, Swanie,” Jack pleaded. “Make her stay, Co

Co

O’Co

Helen Swan had been right about the writing lessons. All those years ago, when O’Co

Even at eight, O’Co

And work it was. There were lessons on finding the heart of the story, on writing clean, clear prose to tell it. He learned to notice differences in style. Jack would read to him, and ask him to tell him which reporter wrote the story. Corrigan’s and Helen Swan’s he began to recognize for their skill. Others, he could often spot because of their weaknesses.

He learned to observe and to describe what he saw. At first, the descriptions were delivered verbally, and sometimes breathlessly during a boxing lesson. Later, he wrote small stories for Jack, who did not spare his feelings when critiquing the results.

So it was that by the time O’Co

She smiled and made O’Co

The challenge of reporting for the Express was the only thing that kept him from going crazy after Maureen disappeared. He thought at first that Jack might have believed that all he needed was distraction, something to keep him from dwelling on her disappearance.

He had underestimated Corrigan.

Jack had no more given up on the idea of finding Maureen than O’Co

Jack spent time with him in the paper’s morgue, going through clipping files on disappearances. O’Co

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jack told him. “There are young runaways mixed in here, and plenty of people who are lost because they don’t want to be found. Women whose husbands beat them, men who want to escape debts or responsibilities, teenagers who have cruel parents, parents who-well, of a terrible kind-so terrible the paper can’t print the details.”

“But there have to be some missing girls who are like Maureen,” O’Co

“I know that and you know that. But after you’ve read enough of these, you’ll understand why detectives are skeptical people.”

He read them, and had to admit that in many cases, it was as Jack had said. He found two other stories, though, in which young women near Maureen’s age had gone missing in the month of April, although in other years-young women who seemingly had no reason to disappear. Less, he admitted to himself, than Maureen had. A

“I want to talk to their families,” he told Jack.

“Fine, but remember-both of them are old news as far as the Express is concerned. Don’t try to do anything about it on company time.”

The mothers of the missing women, wary at first, became more open with him upon hearing that his own sister had disappeared. He spoke to them separately and learned that they were each unaware of any other cases. A

O’Co

But before many months had passed, he decided that anything would be better than not knowing-anything. He could and did imagine so many horrific possibilities for her fate, the notion of her being beyond harm ranked far from the worst of them. Please, not suffering, became his evening and morning prayer, his silent plea throughout the day.