3 The sun was blindingly bright when I left the hospital . I didn't go home . I went to the park , the one where Joshua and I used to go all the time . Pigeons strutted across the pavement , cooing for breadcrumbs . Joshua once told me that pigeons carry messages to people who are far away . I sat on our favorite bench and pulled a small piece of bread from my pocket , crumbling it onto the ground . A fat pigeon waddled over and began to peck at the crumbs . I whispered to it , " Tell Joshua they're taking his picture down . " The pigeon cooed twice , then took flight , soaring into the sky . It would deliver the message . I was sure of it .. I started going to the same park every day , sitting on the same bench . I stopped visiting the mail locker . That was a place for sending letters to stars , and Joshua wasn't a star . He didn't deserve my letters . I bought a new notebook , a hardcover one with a very serious - looking cat on the cover . I liked him. I named the notebook my " Bad Kid Record Book . " On the first page , I glued a promotional flyer from the hospital that I'd taken . It had Joshua's picture on it . I used a red pen to draw a big question mark over the word " Hero . " Then , I started to draw . I drew the scene in the bakery . Joshua's smile , Vivian's mouth , and the missing strawberry . I drew it in great detail , right down to the wood grain on the table . Every day I came to the park , and every day I added something to my book . Sometimes pictures , sometimes words . Today , Vivian called again . I didn't answer . Today , I saw her waiting by my front door . I used the back entrance . Today , Mrs. Gable from next door asked why the hospital took Joshua's picture down . I told her it was beca- 11.18 Chapter 1 use he steals things . Mrs. Gable gave me a very strange look . She didn't believe me . That was okay . I would make them all believe me . 11.19 There was an old man who also came to the park every day . He always sat on the bench across from me , reading his newspaper . Sometimes , he would watch me . I didn't mind . In my world , there was only my ruleb- ook and my mission . One afternoon , I was sketching a picture of Joshua and Vivian holding hands . I'd seen them the day before , hiding behind an aisle at the supermarket . They thought I didn't know . Silly them . The old man walked over . " Young lady , " he asked , " what is it you're drawing so intently every day ? " I looked up at him . His eyes were kind , not full of pity like everyone else's . I handed him my book . He turned the pages one by one , very , very slowly . His expression shifted from curiosity to seriousness . He pointed to my drawing of the bakery . " When did this happen ? " " On my birthday , " I said . He then pointed to the picture of them holding hands . " And this ? " " The day before yesterday . At the grocery store ." He closed the book and handed it back to me . " What's your name ? " " Tricia . " " My name is Peterson , " he said . " I'm a retired police officer . " A police officer . Police officers catch bad people . My eyes lit up . I looked at Mr. Peterson and asked , my voice full of hope , " Officer , are you going to help me lock up the thief ? " He blinked , then a small smile touched his lips . " I'll do my best . "