The girl looked straight at him. There was no fear in her eyes, but there was no hope either. Her gaze was sharp and guarded, the look of someone who had learned early not to trust strangers.
Or anyone at all.
“Where are your parents?” Andrew asked, lowering his voice carefully, as if speaking too loudly might break something delicate between them.
The girl tightened her arms around the baby she was holding.
“There aren’t any,” she answered flatly.
The wind stirred dust across the yard of the abandoned house behind her. Andrew glanced toward the dark interior. Inside there was almost nothing—an old mattress, a rusty can, a damp blanket crumpled in the corner.
It wasn’t really a shelter.
It looked more like a place where someone waited for time to pass.
“How long have you been here?” he asked gently.
The girl hesitated. She glanced at Andrew’s expensive car parked nearby, then at the man in the tailored suit standing in front of her. Finally, she lowered her eyes to the dirt.
“Since Mom fell asleep,” she said quietly.
The words hit Andrew like a punch to the stomach.
“Where is your mom?”
The girl nodded toward the inside of the building.