"I'll find your daughter. I can find anythin'. I'm the Finder Man."
He looked at the ground and wouldn't meet her eyes but his hands reached out for her anyway.
They stood in grimy shadows near an alley in the warehouse district not too far from the docks but the Finder Man couldn't smell the terrible fish stink he didn't find things by smellin' his method was more reliable.
He hated this woman for bringin' her pain and her fear to his home but she had the money and he knew he could find the little girl for her if he had just one thing he needed so he said, almost sadly,
"I need the ssshoe."
And she had it so she gave it to him and he turned and walked away he didn't care where she went he had the money he'd keep his word.
Not much later that night he sat on his old couch and he unplugged the radio and he shut the window to shut out the train rumblin' and the drunk men singin' and Finder Man let the blackness in deep.
He bit on the shoe and chewed on the lace and ripped off his thumbnail to the root so that his thumb bled on the shoe but he never felt the pain not this time not any time.
He saw her just a glimpse but enough to know that she was alive but barely and that she was far far away because he had never seen the yellow room and it scared him because things were movin' around her and he didn't know what that place was but that didn't matter he was the Finder Man he could go there and bring her back but it tired him so much that his eyelids slammed shut and his jaw hung open and he didn't -- couldn't -- notice Creeper sneakin' in, dispersin' the black, shinin' his silver knife like a bright bright lantern.