When was the last time you marched into the unknown with only the soft glow of a motive you strongly believed in?
Anna was 7 when her father, John Blackwood, was suspected to have been murdered, but right before she turns 18 she receives a letter th...
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My hands shake as I brace the cold weather of January, snow falls softly and slowly against my skin. The streets mount with snowflakes and the restaurants crowd with people. I breathe in and out, the cold air lingering still. The street sounds blur off into the distance and my heartbeat becomes louder. I am nervous and maybe scared.
How is it possible for me to find my father in such a busy and populated city? I think.
I close my eyes shut, and the cold snowflakes on my face merge with my hot tears. Although I try not to consider it, the possibility of never finding my father becomes real. The quest for a dead man becomes evenmore real.
I don't know whether I am heading anywhere with this trip, but I have to remember that even if I do not come back home with my father by my side, I will, however, be a step closer to understanding the events that occurred on January 21th of 2006.
I will be a step closer to finding out the culprit.
I force my thoughts to an end and my eyes to open. To my dismay, my eyes stare right back at Jake who is running towards my direction. Earlier, I tried to get away from him at the Eiffel Tower and to mingle with the crowds of people to hide between them till I could find a quiet place further from anyone, further from him. But I guess he has found me now, and it is not so quiet anymore.
"Is that your way of inviting me to come along?" Jake asks, not even breathless from the running.
"What?" I am a little taken aback, I disappeared to get away from him. Does he not get the message? How blunt do I need to be?
He smirks, takes my hand and lead us to a nearby taxi. Without a chance to pull away he opens the door and pushes me inside gently. We take our seat towards the passenger seat. I feel awfully comfortable by the warmth he brings sitting tightly by my side. It must be the heater, I think. The dead silence in the car becomes a bother for the nerve wrecking situation I find myself in. Inside a taxi with the least of all the people I would rather be with.
"Take us to the Statue of Liberty," Jake tells the taxi driver.
I take the opportunity to question his presence.
"Why are you coming? I never intended to ask you, I was just telling myself that I—not we—will visit another touristic area." I emphasize on the "not we," to make him understand that I did not want him coming along.
"Like I said before, today is my free day and I want to do sightseeing." His excuse is obviously a lie, but he insists on it: "you just happen to be going there as well."
"How did you know where I am going?" He just looks at my face in disbelief and starts laughing.
"You must have a short-time memory," I look back at him, annoyed at his remark.
"You pointed towards it, and there is nothing else around where you pointed that was a touristic sightseeing area, apart from the Statue of Liberty." He finishes.
