Lost & Found

Chapter 1

I press the gas pedal even further. The car I was trailing moments ago disappeared, and I smack the steering wheel in frustration. Come on, where are you, Dad?

I turn a corner and suddenly spot his yellow Beamer, parked right beside a door that I assume leads to apartments. And there he is, blue jacket and bowler hat and all, standing in the frame of the door.

I pull up behind his car and don't even bother to turn off the ignition before scrambling out. My heels and skirt prohibit me from moving too fast, but I'm able to walk at a fast-paced clip up onto the sidewalk. I wave to him and shout, "Dad!"

He turns toward me, eyes full of shock. A hint of concern and... anger linger. If anyone should be angry, it's me. He's been hiding something, and I'm finally going to find out what.

Before I can reach him, a loud pop interrupts the quiet of the morning. His left shoulder is thrown forward, giving me full view of a face frozen in terror. I stop my fast pace and stare at him. "Dad...?"

More pops, now in rapid succession, sound throughout the air. I instinctively duck and cover my head, watching the horror all the same. Dad's body jerks and convulses until the pops stop and a car screeches away. His body sways for a few seconds until finally falling into the doorway of the apartment.

The resounding thud of my dad against the stairs jolts me out of my stupor, and I throw the heels off so I can run to him. I feel the tears choking my throat, blurring my vision. He's dead. No, he can't be. But he is.

I finally reach him at the apartment steps, falling to my knees. I can see his right hand moving, grasping at a newspaper. I clutch the left to my chest and ignore the blood that sticks to my white top. "Hey," I try to say soothingly. My voice cracks with the weight of the tears. "Just stay with me, okay? Please?"

He doesn't move his head to look at me. His hand stills. Goes limp. I can barely register a voice yelling, "Mrs. Finch, a man's been shot on our doorstep!" as I slowly relinquish my hold on his hand.

A hand shakes my shoulder, and I look up at a face filled with concern. "Ma'am, Are you alright?"

I study him. He looks about my age. Blonde-reddish hair sticks up in a cowlick hairstyle, a blue sweater and brown trousers completing his outfit. He stares intently at my face. "Are you okay?" He asks again.

I try to answer, but it's like my mouth won't work. I look down to my hands. Red is spotted all around them. Sirens blare I'm the distance. He's dead.

"I'm Tintin." I look back to the man as he speaks. "You're going to be okay. I think you're in shock. Let me help you." Tintin gently picks up one of my hands, ignoring the blood, and guides me to a set of stairs belonging to another door. I sit down on them, and he sits next to me. "What's your name?"

"Grace," I finally croak out. "Grace... Dawes."

"Do you know him?" He points to my father's body. I nod slowly.

"Is he family?"

Another nod. I just can't bring myself to say it.

"Your father?"

I press my lips together and let the tears run down my cheeks. "Y... yes."

Tintin's eyes fill with concern. Sadness etches into his face. He puts an arm around my shoulder. "I'm... sorry. I'm really sorry."

I begin to fall apart.

Hey guys! I know this was a bit of a short first chapter, but I promise the next will be longer. It's also my very first story, so I hope it goes well. Please leave your comments and feedback below, and thank you all so much for reading!