Chapter 8

The Consolidated Charities Building was in the North End, on a street that Abigail had never been to or even heard of.

Out here it was mostly pavement and light industrial companies, with large parking lots which mostly sat empty.

It took Abigail several minutes to find

something suitable to lock her bike to, but she felt slightly silly doing it, as there wasn't a

single person anywhere to be seen, just gray concrete baking in the heat of the day.

There was no one at the front desk when Abigail walked in, but she could hear

some voices down the hallway. There was a bell above the door, and she opened it and closed the door

again, to make it ring a second time. No one appeared, and the voices abruptly stopped talking.

Abigail frowned, uncertain of what to do next.

The situation felt strange, and Abigail tried to be careful when she was working alone.

"'Is that you, David?'

A woman's voice called from down the hall.

"'I don't think so,' Abigail called back,

"'keeping her grip on the door handle, just in case.'

"'A small round woman appeared from a doorway down the hall and to the left,

"'and Abigail instantly felt better about the entire situation.

The woman was about her mother's age, with her hair piled on top of her head in a slightly

haphazard fashion, and a pair of glasses perched above her forehead in the way that people

sometimes do right before they ask you if you know where their glasses are. She seemed flustered and was quickly brushing her fingertips together as she walked,

as if Abigail had interrupted some midday snack.

I'm sorry, sweetie, the lady said as she approached, covering her mouth a little,

...