almost impossible to read beneath the snow.
NORTHBRIDGE CHILDREN’S HOME
I pressed my palm against the glass.
The building looked smaller than I had imagined.
Daniel parked near the curb.
“Is this where your mother lived?”
“I think so.”
“Do you remember it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know the key belongs here?”
“I don’t.”
We got out.
The front gate had been left unlocked. Snow covered a narrow path leading to the entrance. Daniel tested the door, and it opened with a soft groan.
Inside, the air smelled of
