Her hands shook on the steering wheel.
Leo did not understand why the house had become so busy.
Mr Mrstel kept looking at the clock.
His mother arrived home without her usual smile.
Two police officers came to the front door and spoke quietly in the hallway.
Leo sat on the rug holding his wooden bear.
“Grandad?”
Hannah turned.
“Grandad’s gone for a walk, sweetheart.”
Leo looked toward the door.
“Long walk.”
“Yes.”
He stood and toddled toward the hallway.
Grandadd?”
Hannah picked him up.
“Not yet, darling.”
He wriggled.
“Find!”
She held him close.
“We’re going to find him.”
Leo repeated the word.
“Find.”
Hannah kissed his forehead.
She had no idea that, upstairs in Arthur’s study, the old man’s forgotten notebook contained drawings of the very landmarks the police were checking.
She was too frightened to think about the game.
The notebook lay on the hallway table until Leo noticed it.
By then, the officers had left to coordinate the search, and Hannah was speaking to a neighbour on the telephone. Patel was in the kitchen preparing tea.
Leo stood beside the hallway table.
He recognised the black cover.
“Gandad book.”
He reached upward.
His fingertips brushed the edge.
The notebook slid off the table and landed on the carpet.
Leo crouched.
He opened it.
A drawing of the park appeared.
He smiled.
“Swing!”
He turned the page.
The bakery.
“Bread!”
Then he found the envelope containing the large puzzle pieces Arthur had made.
Leo tugged at it.
The paper tore.
Several pieces spilt onto the floor.
He gathered them in both hands and carried them into the sitting room.
He spread them across the small table beside his toys.
Then he began arranging them.
The bear.
The swings.
The bakery.
The red postbox.
The house.
He knew this game.
It was the game Grandad played when he wanted to find home.
Leo picked up the drawing of Arthur beside the tree.
“Grandad.”
He placed it beside the swings.
Then he looked toward the door.
“Grandad lost.”
He did not understand Alzheimer’s disease.
He did not understand police searches or missing-person procedures.
But he understood that his grandfather was gone.
And he remembered that the little pictures belonged together.
Hannah ended the phone call and entered the sitting room.
She stopped.
Paper covered the floor.
The black leather notebook lay open beside the sofa, its pages bent, and several drawings had been pulled loose from an old envelope.
Leo was standing beside his toy table, pressing two paper pieces together.
Hannah’s heart sank.
“Oh, Leo.”
He looked up.
“Mummy!”
She hurried forward.
“What have you done?”
Leo held up a piece of paper.
“Gandad!”
Hannah stared at the notebook.
It had belonged to her father for years. He kept important information in it, and she knew it was one of the few possessions he was unusually protective of.
“Leo, you mustn’t touch Grandad’s things.”
The boy pointed toward the table.
“Find!”
She gathered several loose pages.
“No, sweetheart. These aren’t toys.”
Leo reached for them.
“Mine!”
“They’re Grandad’s.”
He began pulling at the paper.
Hannah moved it out of reach.
“Stop.”
Her voice came out sharper than she intended.
Leo froze.
For a second, he looked bewildered.
Then he reached down and picked up another piece.
“Gandad gone.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
She was frightened, exhausted, and ashamed of the anger rising in her chest.
Her father was missing.
She had no idea where he was.
And now the notebook he treasured appeared to have been torn apart.
“Leo, please,” she said, more firmly. “Leave it alone.”
The boy shook his head.
“No.”
She reached toward the table to collect the remaining pieces.
Leo stepped in front of them.
His small arms spread wide.
“No!”
Hannah stopped.
“Leo.”
He pointed at the drawings.
“Gandad.”
“I know.”
“Lost!”
His voice rose.
Hannah stared at him.
The boy touched his own chest.
“Le,o find.”
Something in his expression made her hesitate.
He wasn’t playing with the paper as he usually played with books.
He wasn’t laughing or throwing pieces into the air.
He was trying, with the limited coordination of a two-year-old, to put certain pictures beside one another.
Hannah looked more carefully.
A red postbox.
A bakery.
A blue house.
Then she noticed the little bear.
Leo tapped it.
“Bear.”
He pointed toward the swings.
“Park.”
Hannah frowned.
She sat down beside him.
“Leo, what is this?”
He looked at her.
“Find home.”
She examined the pieces.
