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we can find any.

    4) Visit old neighbourhood. (I wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, but at least it was something to put on the list.)
    I thought it might also be a good idea to make up a list of questions to ask, but I had no ideas at all there. The big problem facing us there was that people often don’t realize which bits of information might happen to be important. So, when someone tells you about something, it’s easy for them to leave out details that could have been helpful.
    Now, we were about to talk to Lenny Herbert and I was hoping I could hide the fact that I really didn’t know what I was doing from Annie.
    The house Lenny was living in had been his mother’s. My guess was that it was the thing that had brought him back to Little River after all those years away. Mrs. Herbert had died sometime during the summer, and had left the house to Lenny.
    It was a squat little bungalow, white with dark-green eaves and window frames. The lawn was in need of mowing and a small brick-lined garden was almost overgrown with weeds. Whatever Lenny was doing with his time, it wasn’t landscaping.
    â€œMaybe this is a mistake,” Annie said as we reached the door.
    â€œYou’re just feeling nervous,” I told her. At the same time, I jabbed the doorbell button quickly before she could turn and leave.

    A few moments passed before the door squeaked and opened enough to reveal a man who must have been about my father’s age. He was balding and his stomach strained against a grey T-shirt with some kind of sport logo on the front. I couldn’t quite picture someone running off with him. Of course, he might have looked a lot different nearly ten years ago.
    â€œYeah?” he said. His voice wasn’t exactly gruff, but you’d never describe it as warm and welcoming either.
    â€œIt’s me,” Annie said. “Annie,” “Annie?” He squinted.
    â€œAnnie Berkley?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œI told you, I don’t know where your mother went.”
    â€œYes, but we thought you might be able to tell us something that would help,” I said quickly.
    â€œAnd who are you?”
    â€œI’m a friend of Annie’s,” I told him. “We’re hoping to find out where her mother is. There are just a few questions we’d like to ask ... unless you’d rather not help.”
    He paused and I thought he was going to tell us to get lost, so I was a little surprised when he expelled a long breath, rolled his eyes, and told us to come in.
    â€œYou’re wasting your time, though,” he said as he led us into a small, dark kitchen. “I haven’t seen Gina in years. Don’t have a clue where she might be.”
    It wasn’t the most encouraging beginning, but I knew from experience people sometimes have importantinformation without even realizing that it’s significant. I was hoping that would be the case with Lenny.
    Once we were seated at the table, which was surprisingly clean, Lenny plunked down across from us and said, “Shoot!”
    â€œI’d like to know where you and my mom went when you left Little River.” I was surprised at the strength in Annie’s voice as she asked this. She’d seemed so nervous just a moment before, but her chin was up and she was looking steadily at Lenny.
    â€œWell, now, that’s no big secret,” Lenny said. His eyes were down and his fingers tapped unevenly on the table. “We went to Toronto. Ended up in Mississauga, actually. I had a friend there at the time and we stayed with him for a bit.”
    â€œWhat was his name?”
    â€œDoug, though I don’t see what difference that makes,” Lenny said. He seemed kind of annoyed and I made a mental note just to ask really important things. “He moved up north for a while and I heard later that he died in a snowmobile accident. Can’t say for sure if it’s true or