I unlocked the door. Noah came upstairs frightened and furious, moving straight for Tyler. “What is wrong with your mom?” “I don’t know yet.” “I told her my dad’s name and she locked me in a basement!” “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re sorry?” “I panicked.” “That’s not an explanation.” I held out the photograph. “This is.” He wouldn’t take it, so Tyler did, holding it up beside Noah’s face. Noah finally looked. His expression changed. “Who’s that?” “My uncle Michael,” Tyler said. Noah stared harder. “Why does he look like my dad?”
Nobody had an answer by the time the police arrived. I explained everything — the disappearance, the pendant, the birthmark, the name. Noah wasn’t under arrest; if anything, I was the one who’d just locked an innocent stranger in a basement. An officer finally asked Noah, “Where is your father now?” Noah looked baffled. “At home.” My stomach dropped. “What?” “My dad isn’t missing.” I grabbed the back of a chair. “Where does he live?” “About two hours from here.” The room seemed to tilt. Tyler whispered, “Mom.” Noah shook his head. “This can’t be the same person.” “Call him,” I said. “Please.”
