shook her head. “In 1953, when this was built, they made things to last. This place has potential.” She moved toward Sam. “We took the blanket with us that Alma was using. It seemed she needed it for security. I’m not sure if it was already here in the room when she arrived or if she brought it with her. It was brown, black and tan striped. You can find them for under ten dollars at just about any tourist trap.”
“Is the blanket still in your car?” Mitch asked.
“No, she rolled up food and stuff in it before slipping away.”
“Too bad.” Sam kicked at something on the ground. Then he stopped. He took a pair of gloves from his back pocket, and then carefully, almost in slow motion, bent down and extracted something from behind a clump of dirty towels. “Seems our girl likes blankets.”
“What do you mean?”
The tiny blanket Sam held up said it all. It was light blue flannel with Winnie the Pooh on it, exactly the kind of receiving blanket a mother would wrap her newborn son in.
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