Adrian asked the driver to stop a few blocks away from the market plaza.
He didn’t want to draw too much attention.
He got out of the car, with Calvin following close behind.
Calvin scanned the crowd the way he always did.
Alert and ready.
He walked through the market plaza with his hands in his coat pockets.
He didn’t belong there.
Everything about him spoke of it.
People instinctively made way for him.
Adrian had not come to see the market.
He had come because the only lead that could point him directly toward the veiled woman was the two children accompanying her.
Still, walking through a busy market in a black coat and business attire was enough for others to give him a look.
Some were brave enough to call after him to buy their products.
Others lowered their gaze, not wanting to catch his attention.
He passed the fruit and vegetable stalls, then the street food stalls.
The scent of food reached him, then the sound of a guitar playing something upbeat.
Adrian stopped at the south end.
There were no children selling anything.
He looked around, then saw a woman selling handmade bags and scarves.
There wasn’t anything that caught his interest, and he was ready to move.
Until he saw a pile in the corner of her spread.
Small coin purses were on the spread, each bearing different colors and cloth designs.
He could tell at a glance that whoever made them wasn’t experienced, considering how uneven the stitches were.
But the tight double loop made him go still.
He had seen that loop before.
He hadn’t seen that one for years.
The thread was white against the dark blue fabric.
The stitches were a little crooked, but the loop pattern was unmistakable.
That loop technique belonged to one person.
He had seen it made under her slender fingers as she mended his torn shirts, humming to herself.
Sarah said her mother had taught her.
A technique to make a closing seam pretty.
Nobody else did it.
Nobody.
Not in any tailor shops he had visited.
No other hand had ever made that same knot.
Until now.
“Where did you get this?” he asked the seller.
She looked up from her phone, thinking she was about to make a sale.
“Which one, sir?”
“This.” Adrian held up the purse, his fingers touching the seam.
“This one.
Where did it come from?”
The seller shrugged.
“Who knows.
I didn’t make it.
I bought a bundle of little things from some kids: a boy and a girl.
People seem to love their work, so I’m trying to help them sell their goods.
They come around most mornings with a box of those purses.
Cute kids and very polite.”
“Kids.”
“Yes.
Young.
Maybe six or seven.
The boy does the talking.
The girl smiles and helps her brother.
After selling, they help other vendors to clean up their stalls for a few coins.”
Adrian looked at the purse in his hand.
His eyes fixed on the rose knot.
It was cheap cotton, not the smooth silk Sarah used.
But the pattern was identical.
Every loop, every cross, every turn.
They were all the same.
“Where do they sell?” he asked.
“Over there.” The seller pointed toward the far side of the plaza near the bus terminal.
“By the fruit stand, but sometimes they move close to the shoe seller.”
Adrian put the purse in his coat pocket.
He handed the woman a large bill and didn’t ask for change, much to her delight.
“For answering my questions,” he said when she asked him.
The woman looked at him curiously, but didn’t ask anything else.
Adrian walked across the plaza.
Calvin was still two steps behind him.
“Boss,” Calvin said, his eyes moving over the crowd.
“You want to tell me what we’re doing?”
“I’m looking for those children.”
Calvin didn’t ask why.
Adrian would tell him the details if Calvin needed to know.
The fruit stand was on the northeast corner.
An old man sold ripe mangoes from a crate.
Beside him, a seller had spread out several pairs of shoes.
A piece of cardboard lay on the ground, with names written in a child’s hand.
Alec.
Abby.
But the children were nowhere to be seen.
Adrian looked around.
The afternoon crowd was picking up.
Shoppers moved through, vendors called out, and women carried grocery bags.
But no boy and girl were selling stuff among the vendors.
“Sir, are you looking for something?” the mango seller asked Adrian.
“I was told two children were selling coin purses here.
I’m looking for them.”
“Oh?
You mean Alec and Abby?” The old man hummed.
“Sorry, sir, but they only sell here in the mornings.
You’ve already missed them.
They come early, but they left a little earlier today after selling a few things.
The boy said their mother was sick and they had to return early.”
“Where do they live?” Adrian asked.
The man shrugged.
“Who knows.
They never say when we ask them.
Polite, but they don’t talk too much.”
Adrian frowned.
“They usually walk east toward the rail yard.
Must be living somewhere near the rail tracks.
If you want to see them, come back in the morning.” the old man continued.
Adrian nodded.
He stood in the middle of the market with the coin purse in his pocket.
Those two children were selling purses with a stitch of the rose knot that only Sarah knew.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
The veiled woman bore the same face as his dead wife.
Her children were selling purses with Sarah’s rose knot.
It made no sense to him.
Unless…
His chest went tight.
What if Sarah wasn’t dead?
What if she’d been alive all this time — and she chose to leave him?
Adrian started walking to the block where they came from.
Calvin stepped up beside him.
Patient, waiting.
“Clear my appointment tomorrow morning.
I want to see those children as soon as possible,” Adrian said before getting into the back seat of the car.
Calvin nodded.
He pulled out his tablet as soon as he sat in the front seat.
He glanced at the rear-view mirror to look at his boss.
He found Adrian holding the coin purse in one hand, staring at it as if it could give him answers.