Yuri couldn't let this happen.
Yor's little brother resolved, rummaging through a box of documents and papers.
When he imagined Yor grieving and distressed over Anya, it sent his stomach in loops, unable to bear the thought. He would find the chihuahua, if only for her. He personally couldn't care less.
It saddened him that he couldn't tell her the whole story. That he was part of the secret police, appalled that she would ever know all the dirty work he did.
Yuri straightened his uniform jacket as he pulled out a file holding disappointingly little. But it was a start.
He considered the photo at the Forgers when he went to console his sister.
He had come unannounced, knocking on the door to hear the hurried shuffling of papers. Loid had greeted and let him in, telling him his sister wasn't home.
He would've left right then and there, but he saw no papers, and was curious about the noises he heard through the door. He'd take every little chance he could to prove Loid was a spy and get him away from his sister. He has never, and will never accept this sorry excuse as a man for a brother-in-law.
So he stayed. Waited 'til Loid excused himself to use the washroom, looked around, and helped himself to the folder Loid hid behind a bookshelf. He didn't know how he got it, but for now, just for now. He'd let it slide.
He couldn't prove he was a spy with this anyway. People were brought in for questioning for much less, but it was about the woman who kidnapped his daughter. It was sketchy he had this though, he'd have to follow up later.
He made a mental image of the photo, but he was ninety eight percent sure he'd seen her before.
It was the same.
At his desk, Yuri placed the file from his office in front of him. A case he had worked on before.
The woman had taken on more than one identity. The Secret Police had info on one such person: a lady with a feathered hat, large circular glasses, a blue dress of brocade. Different clothes. Different name. Different location. Same face.
Yuri could work with this.
————-
'School is pointless.'
Becky thought, trudging up the stairs the second morning since Anya was kidnapped. How was she supposed to concentrate when her best friend was missing? She wanted to be at home with her father when he received the news his people had found her. Convincing her father to help had been easy, but didn't expect she wouldn't be around to hear the updates on the situation.
But Father said it might be a while, and waiting around, lying in bed wasn't going to help. So he sent her to school. Told her to use it as a distraction.
She felt like sludge, moving through quicksand. Putting her foot one in front of the other, an insurmountable obstacle.
Her bag felt heavier than usual, weighing her further. It felt eerily similar to guilt.
She didn't want to think of her promises to Anya. All the promises to always protect her. In the end she couldn't keep it. she knew it was ridiculous to think she could've protected Anya from something like this, but she couldn't help it.
She had wanted to stay home. Lay in bed all day. Sleep until this was over. Sleep until there was good news. Sleep until Anya came back.
It felt too exhausting to be awake. To go to school. Too exhausting to throw snide remarks at Damian as he descended the short staircase with his friends.
She didn't even glance at him. Didn't speak to him.
Neither did he.
She kept returning to Anya's weird behaviour of late. The way she jumped in her seat, searching for an unseen person that one time. Clutching her hand tight whenever they stepped outdoors. Distracted more than usual if that was possible.
Awake more than asleep in class, now that was odd.
Becky didn't know what to make of this.
Blackbell felt numb as she entered the school, then Cecil Hall. Took her seat.
The spot next to her was very empty.
————-
Loid was feeling discouraged.
He visited the four families Anya had stayed with, but gleaned nothing.
They didn't know of her past, or anything out of the ordinary. She spoke of nothing that would be seen as alarming or strange. Except her usual eccentricities.
When he asked why they brought her back, every answer was to the same affect. She didn't fit their family.
Now he stood outside an orphanage that was not in much better shape than the one he found Anya in.
Her first home that he knew of.
The roof was old, in need of repair. Windows browned with age and dirt. The front steps missing a side of railing, the spokes standing free. He climbed the three steps careful of the rot taking hold on the left side.
He knocked and waited patiently.
The spindly woman who opened the door held a cigarette in her hand. Her face was worn, her hands rough, but she looked to be in her late forties.
"Whaddya want?" She drawled leaning against the doorframe.
"Good morning, Ma'am. My name is Loid Forger. I've come to ask about a little girl who used to be under the care of this institution. Are you the caretaker?" Loid asked politely.
The woman didn't give her name, but waved at him to continue.
"My adopted daughter used to live here. Her name is Anya. She has pink hair, with little horns on her head."
"Yeah, I remember her, she was a pain. So what?" She said, taking a smoke from her cigarette.
"How did she end up here?" Loid asked, ignoring his building irritation.
The woman sighed, an arm crossing over her ribs. Her elbow holding her cigarette hand, resting on top. "Dunno." She shrugged. "Just showed up at my doorstep one day. Little thing wearing nothing by Pyjamas. Why d'you wanna know?"
"Pyjamas?" He asked. "What did they look like?" Loid knowing it was an odd question, needed every bit of information he could get. "What condition was she in?"
The woman squinted at him, alarmed at his odd question.
"Hey, you got questions, as her yourself. She's you're daughter, right? I'm busy as is." She moved to close the door again.
"She's missing!" Loid said hurriedly, a hand against the door, making her pause. "I just need to know."
"She probably ran, kids do it all the time." She answered.
"Kidnapped." Loid kept his hand firmly in place.
She sighed again, clearly wishing he would leave, but reopened the door. "What was it you wanted?" Prompting him.
"How did she look when you found her? What condition was she in? Did she say anything about where she came from? Her parents?" He rattled off.
The caretaker blew a puff of smoke as she thought.
"No. Said nothin. Some kid showed her the way here. She was kinda grubby. Wearin' white pyjamas. No shoes now that I think of it." She said off-handedly. "That it?" She asked.
"Did she look scared at all?" Loid asked.
She gave him a look. "Well, she didn't look happy."
"Where can I find this kid?"
She took another smoke. "Dunno, don't care. He wasn't a street kid. Probably saw her runnin around and brought her here."
"What did he look like?"
"Some school uniform, black and grey. Blonde hair. Listen, I got things to do." She rambled off.
"Last question." Loid insisted. "Did his uniform say what school he belonged to?" He asked.
"As if I'd remember that after a year." The woman growing more irritated by the second.
"Alright. Thank you for your time." Loid disengaged before she tried to physically remove him from the porch.
With a harrumph, she closed the door with a distinct thump.
He gladly left the building, ready to pursue the new lead.