I stared at the document until the words blurred.
PETITION FOR GUARDIANSHIP.
Martin Hale.
A man I had never met.
A man who believed I was already living in Canada.
A man who thought my mother was going to marry him.
And somehow, his name was on paperwork connected to my future.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Neither did anyone else.
Martin’s voice came through the speaker.
“I never signed that.”
Deputy Collins looked at the document again.
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“Did Valerie ever discuss becoming Maya’s guardian?”
“No. She told me Maya was temporarily staying with relatives until we got settled.”
Derek stepped closer.
“Settled where?”
Martin hesitated.
“A house outside Vancouver.”
Derek laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“She told me we were buying a house here after our wedding.”
Martin went quiet.
For the first time, I think both men understood they weren’t enemies.
They were victims of the same lie.
Deputy Collins asked Martin, “Did you send Valerie money?”
There was another pause.
“Yes.”
Derek’s head snapped toward the phone.
“How much?”
“That’s private.”
“Not anymore,” Derek said.
Deputy Collins raised a hand.
“Let me handle this.”
Then he repeated the question.
“How much money did you send?”
Martin’s answer made everyone freeze.
“About eighty thousand dollars.”
Sarah whispered, “Oh my God.”
Martin continued.
“For the house deposit. Legal fees. Immigration expenses. School fees for Maya.”
I looked up.
“School fees?”
“Yes,” Martin said carefully. “Valerie told me she had enrolled you in a private school.”
“I’ve never been to Canada.”
“I know that now.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m sorry, Maya.”
I didn’t know what to say.
I wasn’t angry at him.
I wasn’t even sure I understood him.
He was another stranger standing inside one of my mother’s stories.
Deputy Collins asked him to send proof of every payment.
Within minutes, bank receipts began arriving.
$15,000.
$12,500.
$20,000.
$7,800.
Payment descriptions included:
House deposit.
School enrollment.
Legal processing.
Child relocation.
Derek stared at the transactions.
“She was taking money from both of us.”
Martin answered quietly.
“It appears so.”
Deputy Ramirez turned toward the yellow folder.
“There may be more.”
She carefully lifted another stack of papers.
The first few were copies of my medical records.
Then school records.
Then photographs.
Then a handwritten schedule.
Monday — school pickup.
Tuesday — dentist.
Wednesday — piano.
Thursday — tutoring.
Friday — swimming.
I stared at it.
“That’s not my schedule.”
I didn’t take piano.
I didn’t have a tutor.
I couldn’t even swim very well.
Deputy Ramirez turned the page.
There were notes beside each activity.
Teacher: Mrs. Shaw.
Dentist: Dr. Reynolds.
Piano instructor: Claire.
Swimming coach: Ben.
None of those people existed in my life.
But beside each name was a phone number.
Deputy Collins frowned.
“Has anyone called these?”
“No,” Ramirez said.
He looked at Derek.
“Do you recognize any?”
Derek shook his head.
Martin said he didn’t either.
Collins dialed the first number.
A woman answered.
“Hello?”
“This is Deputy Collins. May I speak with Mrs. Shaw?”
There was a pause.
“This is Mrs. Shaw.”
“Do you teach a student named Maya Carter?”
“Yes.”
My mouth opened.
Deputy Collins looked at me.
I shook my head violently.
No.
No.
No.
He continued.
“What school?”
The woman gave the name of a private academy in British Columbia.
Deputy Ramirez immediately started writing.
“How long have you taught Maya?”
“Since January.”
My stomach turned.
January?
That was six months ago.
Deputy Collins asked, “Have you met her in person?”
The woman paused.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She receives remote instruction.”
“Video lessons?”
“No.”
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Then how do you teach her?”
“Her mother submits assignments.”
Everyone stared at each other.
“Have you ever spoken directly to Maya?”
“No.”
“Have you seen her on a video call?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
The woman sounded uncomfortable now.
“Her mother said Maya has severe anxiety and doesn’t speak to strangers.”
I whispered, “That’s not true.”
Deputy Collins nodded toward me.
Then he asked, “Who pays the tuition?”
“Her stepfather.”
Derek’s face hardened.
“I’m not her stepfather.”
Martin’s voice came through the speaker.
“I paid it.”
The room fell silent.
Martin had been paying for a school I wasn’t attending.
Assignments were being submitted under my name.
Somebody had created an entire academic life for me.
Deputy Collins ended the call.
Then he dialed the dentist.
Same story.
Records existed.
Appointments had supposedly happened.
Payments had been made.
But the clinic said my mother always canceled before I appeared.
Then the piano instructor.
Same thing.
Monthly payments.
No student.
My mother had built me like a fictional character.
A daughter who lived in Canada.
A daughter who attended private school.
A daughter who took piano lessons.
A daughter who had dental appointments.
A daughter who existed only on paper.
But why?
Deputy Ramirez seemed to be asking herself the same question.
“This is too elaborate just to deceive a boyfriend.”
Collins nodded.
“There has to be a financial reason.”
Elena from child protective services looked through the records.
“Or a custody reason.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
Elena pointed toward the guardianship petition.
“If Valerie was trying to establish that Maya had already been living in another jurisdiction, attending school there, receiving services there, and being financially supported there…”
She stopped.
Deputy Collins finished the thought.
“She could try to create a paper trail.”
“For what?” I asked.
Elena chose her words carefully.
“To make it appear that your life had already moved somewhere else.”
My chest tightened.
“But it hadn’t.”
“No.”
“Then why would she want people to believe that?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Derek said, “Her ex.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Derek stared at me.
“Your father.”
My stomach dropped.
My mother rarely spoke about my father.
When she did, it was always the same story.
He left.
He didn’t want us.
He never called.
He never cared.
I had stopped asking years ago.
Deputy Collins looked at Derek.
“What do you know about him?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Carter.”
My heart began pounding.
Hearing his name from someone else felt strange.
“Location?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Valerie ever mention custody issues?”
Derek hesitated.
“She said he had no rights.”
Elena immediately asked, “No rights because of a court order?”
“I assumed so.”
“Did you ever see one?”
“No.”
Deputy Collins looked toward the yellow folder.
They began searching.
Birth certificate.
School records.
Medical paperwork.
Passport application.
Guardianship documents.
Then Deputy Ramirez stopped.
“I found something.”
She pulled out a sealed envelope.
On the front was written:
DANIEL CARTER — LEGAL.
My hands went cold.
Collins opened it.
Inside was a court document.
He read silently for several seconds.
Then he looked at Elena.
She took the page.
Her expression changed.
“This isn’t a termination of parental rights.”
Derek frowned.
“What is it?”
“A custody order.”
My chest tightened.
“Custody?”
Elena looked at me.
“Maya, this document says your father has visitation rights.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because he left.”
Nobody said anything.
I continued.
“Mom said he never wanted me.”
Elena glanced down.
“This says he petitioned the court for contact.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“When?”
She checked.
“Years ago.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
I was five.
My mother had told me he disappeared when I was four.
Deputy Collins pulled another document from the envelope.
A letter.
Then another.
Then another.
All addressed to my mother.
All from the same law office.
REQUEST FOR VISITATION COMPLIANCE.
REQUEST FOR CONTACT INFORMATION.
NOTICE OF NONCOMPLIANCE.
I stared at them.
“What does that mean?”
Elena sat beside me.
“It means someone was trying to enforce visitation.”
“My dad?”
“It appears so.”
My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“No, she said he didn’t want me.”
Nobody corrected me.
Nobody needed to.
The papers were doing that.
I looked at Derek.
“Did you know?”
He shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“Did Martin?”
Martin answered from the phone.
“No.”
Sarah squeezed my hand.
Deputy Collins continued searching.
Then he found photographs.
Not fake ones.
Real ones.
A younger version of me sitting on a man’s shoulders.
Me holding his hand at a playground.
Me asleep against his chest.
I knew the man.
Not from memory.
From one photograph my grandmother had once shown me before Mom threw it away.
My father.
Daniel.
On the back of one photograph, someone had written:
Maya, age 4. Last weekend before Valerie stopped visits.
My tears fell onto the table.
I didn’t wipe them away.
All this time, I had believed he abandoned me.
What if he hadn’t?
Deputy Collins picked up the final paper.
A recent letter.
Only two months old.
He read the first paragraph.
Then stopped.
“What?” Deputy Ramirez asked.
He looked at me.
Then at Elena.
“This is from Daniel’s attorney.”
My throat tightened.
“What does it say?”
Collins read carefully.
Daniel Carter has reason to believe his daughter may be relocated outside the United States without required notice or consent.
Nobody moved.
The letter continued.
He requests immediate disclosure of Maya Carter’s current residence, school enrollment, and intended travel.
My mother knew.
She knew my father was asking questions.
She knew someone was looking for me.
Suddenly the fake Canadian school made sense.
The fake schedule.
The fake photographs.
The fake residence.
Maybe my mother wasn’t only building a new life.
Maybe she was hiding me from someone who had been trying to find me.
Deputy Collins looked at Elena.
“We need to locate Daniel Carter.”
Elena nodded.
I immediately grabbed Collins’ sleeve.
“What if he doesn’t want me?”
The room became painfully quiet.
Collins lowered himself beside me.
“Maya, I can’t promise what another person feels.”
I nodded, trying not to cry harder.
“But,” he continued, “these records show he has been trying to contact you.”
“For six years?”
“It looks that way.”
I stared at the photograph in my hand.
My father was smiling.
So was I.
I didn’t remember that day.
But the little girl in the photograph didn’t look afraid of him.
She looked safe.
Thirty minutes later, Deputy Collins received an address.
Daniel Carter lived less than four hours away.
Not another country.
Not another state.
Four hours.
My mother had told me he was somewhere across the country.
She had lied about that too.
Collins called the number associated with the address.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then Elena found another number in the court records.
Collins dialed it.
Three rings.
Four.
Five.
A man answered.
“Hello?”
Deputy Collins glanced at me.
“Is this Daniel Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Deputy Collins. I’m calling regarding your daughter, Maya.”
Silence.
Then something crashed on the other end.
A chair, maybe.
“What happened?”
The man’s voice was suddenly terrified.
“Is she hurt?”
My heart stopped.
Not:
Who is Maya?
Not:
Why are you calling me?
Is she hurt?
Deputy Collins answered, “She is safe.”
I covered my mouth.
The man released a breath that sounded almost like a sob.
“Where is she?”
Collins looked toward Elena.
“We need to ask you some questions first.”
“I’ve been asking where she is for years.”
His voice cracked.
“Valerie changed her number. Changed schools. Moved twice. Every time my attorney found them, they disappeared again.”
I started crying.
He continued.
“I sent letters.”
I looked at the stack on the table.
“I sent birthday cards.”
My head snapped toward Deputy Ramirez.
There were no birthday cards in the folder.
Daniel’s voice broke completely.
“I sent one every year.”
I whispered, “I never got them.”
He heard me.
Silence.
Then:
“Maya?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Maya, is that you?”
My hands were shaking so badly Sarah had to steady me.
“Yes.”
The man on the phone began crying.
Not quietly.
He was trying to breathe through it.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Something inside me shattered.
My mother had told me for years that this man didn’t care.
Yet he was crying simply because he heard my voice.
“I thought you left,” I whispered.
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
“No, Maya.”
“Mom said you didn’t want me.”
“That is not true.”
“Then why didn’t you come?”
“I tried.”
He sounded desperate now.
“I tried more times than you’ll ever know.”
Deputy Collins gently interrupted.
“Mr. Carter, we need you to come to the sheriff’s office.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“Drive safely.”
“I’ll be there.”
Before Collins ended the call, Daniel spoke again.
“Maya?”
“Yes?”
“I have every birthday card.”
My throat closed.
“What?”
“Every one they returned. Every one I couldn’t deliver. I kept them.”
Tears rolled down my face.
Then he said:
“I kept them because I hoped one day I would finally be allowed to give them to you.”
The call ended.
I sat there holding the photograph of a father I thought had abandoned me.
Four hours away, he was getting into a car.
But before I could even understand what was happening, Deputy Ramirez’s phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Then at Collins.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Airport police opened Valerie’s carry-on during the detention.”
Collins stood.
“What did they find?”
Ramirez slowly turned the phone toward him.
“A second passport.”
Derek frowned.
“For Valerie?”
Ramirez shook her head.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
She looked directly at me.
“It has Maya’s photograph.”
The room went silent.
“But I don’t have a passport,” I whispered.
“You do now.”
She swallowed.
“And according to the document, your name isn’t Maya Carter.”
My hands turned cold.
“What name is on it?”
Deputy Ramirez stared at the screen.
Then she said the name my mother had apparently planned to give me after we disappeared.
“Amelia Hale.”
Martin stopped breathing on the phone.
Hale.
His last name.
My mother hadn’t only planned to move me.
She had already created a new identity for me.
And the passport showed one more thing.
A departure date.
Three days from now.
PART 6: THE NAME MY MOTHER GAVE ME
“Amelia Hale.”
I repeated the name quietly.
It didn’t sound like me.
It sounded like somebody my mother had invented.
Somebody easier to move.
Easier to hide.
Easier to erase.
Deputy Ramirez held the phone in front of Deputy Collins.
The passport photo was mine.
My face.
My hair.
My eyes.
But the name underneath belonged to a girl who had never existed.
AMELIA HALE.
Date of birth: mine.
Place of birth: wrong.
Address: British Columbia.
Parent listed: Valerie Hale.
I stared at the screen.
“Why does it say Hale?”
Martin’s voice came through the speaker.
“That’s my last name.”
Nobody answered.
He sounded sick.
“I never agreed to that.”
Deputy Collins asked, “Did Valerie ever ask permission to use your surname for Maya?”
“No.”
“Did she ever mention obtaining travel documents for her?”
“Never.”
Derek leaned against the counter.
“This is insane.”
But it wasn’t insanity.
Not anymore.
There was too much planning.
Too many dates.
Too many signatures.
Too many accounts.
My mother had known exactly what she was doing.
Deputy Collins stepped away and began contacting federal authorities about the passport.
I didn’t understand everything he said.
Fraud.
Identity documents.
International travel.
Possible forged consent.
But one sentence stuck with me.
“We need to determine how she obtained this.”
That scared everyone.
Because fake school pictures were one thing.
A passport was different.
It meant my mother hadn’t just told lies.
Someone had accepted them.
Elena sat beside me.
“Maya, are you okay?”
I looked at her.
“What happens to my real name?”
“Nothing.”
“Can she change it without asking me?”
“No.”
“Then why does that passport exist?”
Elena didn’t answer immediately.
“Because someone created documents that should never have been created.”
I looked down at my hands.
“Does that mean she was really going to take me?”
“We’re still figuring that out.”
“But the ticket was for three days from now.”
“Yes.”
“So after her vacation…”
My voice shook.
“She was coming back for me.”
Sarah covered her mouth.
No one contradicted me.
The truth was becoming horribly clear.
My mother hadn’t left me alone because she had forgotten me.
She had left me alone while she finished preparing to disappear with me.
And maybe she believed nobody would discover what she had done before she returned.
Maybe those 30 days weren’t a vacation.
Maybe they were preparation.
Derek suddenly looked toward the staircase.
“Her laptop.”
Deputy Collins turned.
“What?”
“She brought a travel laptop, but she has another one.”
“Where?”
“In the bedroom.”
A search warrant would be needed before anyone went further.
More calls.
More waiting.
Every new piece of evidence created another locked door.
While the adults handled that, I sat with Sarah at the kitchen table eating another sandwich.
This time I didn’t save half.
It felt strange.
Almost wrong.
I had spent six days measuring food.
Now Sarah kept putting things in front of me.
Apple slices.
Crackers.
Juice.
She didn’t ask how much I deserved.
She just fed me.
Derek sat across the room.
He looked ten years older than he had when he arrived.
Finally he asked, “Maya?”
I looked at him.
“I need to tell you something.”
I waited.
“The day we left, I really believed you were going to the lake.”
“I know.”
“I should have checked.”
I didn’t answer.
“I should have called Sarah myself.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No excuses.
No defense.
Just yes.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him for a long time.
Then asked, “Why did Mom lie to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were going to marry her.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t you know when she was lying?”
His face tightened.
“I thought I did.”
That answer stayed with me.
Sometimes people were good at lying because they lied about small things first.
Then bigger things.
Until nobody knew where the truth ended.
An hour later, Daniel arrived.
My father.
I heard the car before I saw him.
A dark blue sedan stopped outside.
The driver’s door opened.
A man stepped out holding a cardboard box against his chest.
He had dark hair with gray at the sides.
He looked thinner than in the old photographs.
Older.
Nervous.
He stopped halfway up the walkway.
His eyes found me through the open front door.
Neither of us moved.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
This was the man my mother had told me to forget.
The man she said forgot me first.
Daniel handed the box to Deputy Collins.
Then he stayed where he was.
He didn’t run inside.
He didn’t try to hug me.
He waited.
That mattered.
Elena walked outside first.
They spoke quietly.
Then Deputy Collins checked identification.
More questions.
More documents.
Finally Elena came back to me.
“You don’t have to speak with him if you’re not ready.”
I looked outside.
Daniel was staring at the ground.
“What’s in the box?”
“I think those are the things he told you about.”
The birthday cards.
I stood.
My legs felt weak.
Sarah started to come with me.
I shook my head.
“I want to go.”
I walked outside.
Daniel looked up.
His eyes filled immediately.
“Hi, Maya.”
“Hi.”
His voice sounded exactly like it had on the phone.
Soft.
Careful.
He crouched, but kept several feet between us.
“You got tall.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Then he gave a small sad laugh.
“That was a stupid thing to say.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
I looked at the box.
“Are those really for me?”
He nodded.
“All of them.”
“How many?”
“Birthdays, Christmas, some random ones.”
“Random?”
“Sometimes I saw something that reminded me of you.”
I looked inside.
Dozens of envelopes.
Different colors.
Different years.
MAYA — AGE 6.
MAYA — AGE 7.
MAYA — AGE 8.
MAYA — AGE 9.
MAYA — AGE 10.
And one that said:
MAYA — 11TH BIRTHDAY.
My birthday had been three months earlier.
I picked it up.
The envelope was unopened.
“Why didn’t I get it?”
His jaw tightened.
“I mailed it.”
“Where?”
“To the last address I had.”
“This house?”
He nodded.
“It came back.”
“Why?”
“Return to sender.”
I remembered my mother throwing away mail without opening it.
Sometimes whole stacks.
My stomach turned.
“What did you write?”
“You can read it.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a card with a drawing of a little fox holding balloons.
Underneath, my father had written:
Maya, I don’t know if you’ll ever receive this, but I need you to know I think about you every day. None of this is because you did anything wrong. I will keep looking for you.
I stopped reading.
My eyes burned.
“When did you write this?”
“Three months ago.”
“So you knew I was somewhere.”
“I knew you existed.”
My throat tightened.
“But you didn’t know where.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Mom said you stopped trying.”
He shook his head.
“I stopped showing up at addresses after her lawyer threatened to accuse me of harassment.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I found you, you disappeared again.”
I looked at Deputy Collins.
He gave a small nod.
The court documents supported at least part of what Daniel was saying.
My father opened the cardboard box.
“There’s something else.”
He removed a thick binder.
Inside were copies of emails.
Certified mail receipts.
Court filings.
Returned envelopes.
Photographs.
Dates.
Years of them.
He had kept records too.
Just like me.
The realization hit me so suddenly that I couldn’t breathe.
For six days, I had written everything down because I was afraid nobody would believe me.
For six years, my father had done the same thing.
I looked at him.
“You wrote everything down.”
He nodded.
“I had to.”
“Because people didn’t believe you?”
His eyes changed.
“Because your mother was very good at making things disappear.”
That sentence frightened me.
“What things?”
He hesitated.
Deputy Collins looked toward him.
“Mr. Carter.”
Daniel stood.
“There’s something you need to see.”
He opened the binder near the back.
Several police reports.
One from six years ago.
One from five years ago.
One from three years ago.
Each involved attempts to locate me.
Then a report from eight months earlier.
Daniel pointed at it.
“I hired a private investigator.”
Derek frowned.
“You what?”
“I had no other option.”
“What did they find?” Deputy Ramirez asked.
Daniel turned the page.
“A storage unit.”
My mother’s name appeared on the rental agreement.
Deputy Collins leaned closer.
“Where?”
Daniel gave the address.
It was only twenty minutes away.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t enter?”
“No. I couldn’t legally access it.”
“Why is it important?”
Daniel pulled out photographs the investigator had taken from a public parking area.
My mother appeared in several of them.
Carrying boxes.
Folders.
Suitcases.
One photograph had been taken three months earlier.
It showed my mother standing beside a man.
Not Derek.
Not Martin.
A third man.
Deputy Collins pointed.
“Who is he?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No idea.”
Derek leaned closer.
His face went pale.
“I know him.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Who?”
“His name is Paul Mercer.”
Deputy Collins wrote it down.
“How does Valerie know him?”
Derek swallowed.
“He works in document services.”
“What kind?”
“Immigration paperwork. Apostilles. International records. That kind of thing.”
The room changed instantly.
A man who handled documents.
A fake passport.
Fake school records.
Fake residence.
False signatures.
Deputy Collins asked, “How well do you know him?”
“Not well. Valerie introduced us once.”
“When?”
“About five months ago.”
“What did she say?”
“That he was helping with paperwork for the honeymoon.”
My skin went cold.
Five months.
Around the same time my fake Canadian life started becoming more detailed.
Deputy Collins walked outside and made another call.
Everything began moving faster.
The storage unit.
Paul Mercer.
The passport.
The forged documents.
For the first time, they weren’t only investigating my mother.
There might have been someone helping her.
Twenty minutes later, Deputy Collins returned.
“Storage facility confirmed.”
“And?” Ramirez asked.
“Valerie rented the unit under her legal name.”
Derek exhaled.
“That’s something.”
Collins continued.
“But there’s another authorized user.”
“Paul?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“Who?”
Collins checked his phone.
“Daniel Carter.”
My father’s face went blank.
“What?”
Every person in the room turned toward him.
“I have never rented a storage unit with Valerie.”
“But your name is listed.”
“I don’t care what the paperwork says. I didn’t sign it.”
Deputy Collins looked at him carefully.
“Then we may have another forged signature.”
Daniel slowly sat down.
My mother had used Martin’s last name.
She had used my identity.
And now she had apparently used my father’s name too.
“Why?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
Then Deputy Collins’ radio crackled again.
This time his expression changed almost immediately.
“Go ahead.”
A voice answered.
Airport authorities had finished a deeper search of my mother’s luggage.
They had found cash.
Several phones.
Two sets of documents.
And a small envelope marked with one word:
MAYA.
Deputy Collins listened.
“What’s inside?”
A pause.
Then he looked straight at me.
My stomach twisted.
“What?”
He lowered the radio.
“Photographs.”
I swallowed.
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“More than fifty.”
Sarah gripped my hand.
“From when?”
Collins looked at the message coming through on his phone.
His face hardened.
“Some were taken recently.”
I frowned.
“Mom takes pictures of me all the time.”
He shook his head.
“These weren’t taken by her.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“They appear to be surveillance photographs.”
At school.
At the grocery store.
Walking home.
Sitting in Sarah’s backyard months earlier.
Pictures of me when I didn’t know anyone was watching.
Daniel stood so fast the chair nearly fell over.
“Who took them?”
Collins looked at the final note from airport police.
“There’s a name written on the back of several photos.”
Derek whispered, “Paul Mercer?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Deputy Collins stared at Daniel.
And when he said the name, my father went completely still.
“Thomas Carter.”
I looked between them.
“Who is Thomas?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
His face had gone white.
“Dad?”
It was the first time I had called him that.
He looked at me.
Tears filled his eyes.
Then he whispered:
“Thomas is my brother.”
My uncle.
A man my mother had never once told me existed.
And according to the photographs hidden inside her luggage…
he had been watching me for months.
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