In Search of Sam Read Online Free Page A

chain either.
    So much for that. Unless Mom can tell me more or there’s a clue mixed in with Sam’s other belongings, the chain and pendant are a dead end.
    I sigh and move on to a dog-eared envelope addressed to Sam. It’s old. I can tell without even opening it. Not only is the envelope practically falling apart, it has a thirty-nine-cent stamp on it! There’s a return address in the top left-hand corner: Mr. & Mrs. D. Sheffield, 422 Owen Way, Merritt, B.C. Neither the name nor address rings any bells.
    Curious, I slip the letter from the envelope. My gaze goes immediately to the date at the top of the page: July 12, 1991. That’s over twenty years ago. Quickly I scan the letter. It’s from one of Sam’s foster families. Probably his last one, if the date is any indication. In 1991 Sam would’ve been nineteen, and I know he joined the rodeo shortly after he graduated high school.
    The letter is full of news about life in the Sheffield home and asks how Sam is doing too. Obviously these people cared about him. Why else would they write to him after he left? Besides, they ask when he’ll be back for a visit, and they sign off with love. Sam never talked about the families he lived with, but this one must have been special if he hung on to the letter. As I return it to its envelope, I can’t help wondering if Sam wrote back and if he ever went to see them.
    The last item on the bed is an address book. If there are going to be any clues to Sam’s identity, this is where I’ll find them. With high hopes, I flip through it. It’s disappointingly empty. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. It contains Mom’s address and phone number, of course — scratched out and re-entered after each of her five marriages, but otherwise it’s just a collection of business numbers: doctor, drugstore, lawyer, rodeo association, farrier, feed store, that sort of thing.
    There is one entry that catches my attention, though. It’s for an Arlo — no last name. Nellie Hill’s Boarding House, Kamloops, is scribbled on the address line. And there’s a phone number. Unless Arlo was Sam’s dentist or barber, this could be a lead.

Chapter Four
    It’s dark when I head out the next morning, and since I have no idea which way to go, even in daylight, I have to trust the GPS to guide me. In just a few turns I’m on Highway 97, and I relax my steel grip on the steering wheel. I still don’t know where I’m going, but I do know Highway 97 runs through Webb’s River, so I’m pretty sure I can’t get lost. According to the GPS, it’s a two-hour drive.
    Dull grey light gradually pushes away the darkness, revealing scraps of snow among the trees and scraggly clumps of winter grass at the side of the road — a detail I won’t share with my mother. At least not until I’m back in Vancouver. Even though the snow is several days old and the highway is totally clear, the mere existence of the white stuff will have her on the next plane to Kamloops.
    As the morning wears on, I search the sky for the sun, but it stays resolutely hidden behind dirty clouds, and I find myself being dragged down by the bleakness of the day. The closer I get to Webb’s River, the more uneasy I become.
    It’s not that I question whether or not I should be going. I know I should be. I have to — for practical reasons as well as personal ones. For one thing, I need to make sure there’s no business stuff that’s been overlooked. I’m fairly certain there isn’t; Sam was pretty thorough, but you never know. If Mom was with me, I wouldn’t be nearly so anxious, but that’s because she would be running the show. And it can’t be that way. All Sam and I had were six short weeks together, and almost all of that was spent at his place in Webb’s River. If it hurts to think about him when I’m in Vancouver, it’s going to