“He died when I was a baby. Mom says he was very brave. He was a firefighter.”
Andrew swallowed quietly.
Eight blocks later they reached Pine Street.
Anna stopped in front of a faded apartment building.
“This is it.”
They climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. Anna pulled a small key from a string around her neck.
“Mom says I should only use it in emergencies.”
Andrew nodded.
“This sounds like one.”
The apartment door creaked open.
Inside, the place was small but warm. Children’s drawings covered the refrigerator, and family photos filled the shelves—Anna smiling beside the same woman in every picture.
Her mother.
“Mom?” Anna called.
Her voice echoed through the apartment.
No answer.
Anna’s face crumpled.
“She’s not here,” she whispered.
Andrew knelt beside her and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she began to cry.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ll find her.”
He started calling nearby hospitals.
The third call changed everything.
“Yes,” the hospital administrator said after checking records. “Maria Morales, one of our nurses, collapsed during her shift yesterday. High fever and dehydration. She’s currently admitted as a patient.”
Andrew exhaled in relief.
“Is she awake?”