When he arrived at the address, he sat in the car for several moments, observing the modest duplex before him. The paint was faded. The steps were uneven. A child’s bicycle leaned against the wall, rust creeping along its frame.
Jonathan straightened his jacket and stepped out of the vehicle. He knocked firmly. There was movement inside, followed by hurried footsteps and the unmistakable sound of a crying infant.
The door opened slowly. Sofia Calderon stood in the doorway, her eyes widening with shock as she recognized him.
“Mr. Piercewood,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did not know you were coming.”
Jonathan was momentarily silent. She looked exhausted. Her hair was pulled back hastily. Dark shadows framed her eyes. She held a baby against her shoulder while two children stood behind her, watching him with guarded curiosity.
“I came because you have missed several days of work,” Jonathan said at last. “I wanted to understand why.”