Chapter 2 - AUNT RACHEL
Olivia had not spoken to her older sister in almost nine years.
Ethan knew that much.
He knew Aunt Rachel existed because there were old photographs in a box at Grandma’s house.
Two sisters on a beach.
Two sisters at Christmas.
Two sisters standing beside a college graduation cake.
Then nothing.
Whenever Ethan asked, Olivia said, “We lost touch.”
That phrase now sounded suspiciously like all the other half-truths adults used when the real story was too uncomfortable.
Michael opened the door but did not step aside.
Rachel Hale stood on the porch.
Dark hair.
Large sunglasses pushed onto her head.
Red scarf.
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
“That’s her.”
Everyone turned.
Rachel looked at him.
For one second, pure panic crossed her face.
Michael’s voice hardened.
“You were watching the house.”
Rachel looked at him.
“I needed to know if they found each other.”
Olivia grabbed the edge of the table.
“You knew?”
Rachel began crying.
“Liv.”
“You knew?”
“I can explain.”
Olivia crossed the room.
“You knew my son was alive?”
Ethan had never seen his mother truly furious.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Cold.
Rachel stepped backward.
“I didn’t know at first.”
“When did you know?”
Rachel looked at Ethan.
Olivia moved into her line of sight.
“Do not look at him. Look at me.”
Rachel swallowed.
“Six years ago.”
The number hit the room.
Ethan was two.
Olivia’s hands shook.
“You knew for six years.”
“I found out by accident.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was scared.”
Olivia laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Rachel looked toward the street.
“Voss.”
Michael closed the door.
Locked it.
“Sit down.”
Rachel hesitated.
Michael’s voice sharpened.
“Sit.”
She did.
Ethan stood near the stairs.
Olivia pointed.
“Upstairs.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No more sending me away while adults decide what I get to know.”
Michael looked at Olivia.
She closed her eyes.
Then nodded.
Ethan sat.
Rachel stared at her hands.
“I worked at Maplewood Regional when you gave birth.”
Olivia stared.
“You were in billing.”
“Yes.”
“You came to see me.”
“Yes.”
“You held Ethan.”
Rachel’s face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Rachel.”
“I swear. Not then.”
Michael leaned forward.
“Start at the beginning.”
Rachel took a breath.
“After the boys were born, there was a woman at the hospital.”
“What woman?” Olivia asked.
“Angela Mercer.”
Michael frowned.
“I know that name.”
“You should.”
Rachel looked at him.
“She ran a private adoption agency.”
Olivia’s face went blank.
“No.”
Rachel continued.
“She had relationships with hospitals. Lawyers. Social workers. She specialized in difficult placements.”
“Difficult?” Ethan asked.
Rachel looked at him sadly.
“Babies whose situations were complicated.”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“Say what you mean.”
Rachel looked down.
“She found babies for wealthy families.”
Olivia stood.
“No.”
“Liv—”
“No.”
Rachel continued quickly.
“I didn’t understand what she was doing then. I thought everything was legal.”
“Then what?”
“I saw her in the neonatal records room.”
Michael stopped.
“Why?”
“I was bringing paperwork.”
“And?”
“She was arguing with Voss.”
“What did they say?”
Rachel swallowed.
“She said the couple had paid for one healthy male infant.”
The room became still.
Ethan felt sick.
Olivia whispered, “My son.”
Rachel cried.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew there were two boys.”
“Yes.”
“You knew one disappeared.”
“I believed he died.”
“Until six years ago.”
Rachel nodded.
Olivia turned away.
Michael asked, “How did you find out?”
Rachel wiped her eyes.
“I was living in St. Louis. I volunteered at a shelter that worked with foster families.”
Ethan’s attention sharpened.
“One day, a little boy came in.”
“Caleb,” Olivia whispered.
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Two.”
Ethan pictured a toddler with his face.
Alone.
Rachel continued.
“He had been removed from a home after the woman caring for him was arrested for fraud.”
“Who was she?” Michael asked.
“Angela Mercer.”
Silence.
“She raised him?” Olivia asked.
“No. She moved him between people. Temporary caregivers. Fake guardians. I don’t know why.”
Michael’s expression darkened.
“Because a stolen infant becomes evidence when the adoptive placement fails.”
Rachel nodded.
“The wealthy couple backed out after he developed breathing problems. Angela kept him off official systems as long as she could.”
Ethan’s skin went cold.
Caleb had not been unwanted.
He had been hidden.
Olivia covered her mouth.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Rachel began crying harder.
“I was going to.”
“You had six years.”
“I called Voss first.”
Michael stood.
“What?”
“I panicked. I wanted to know if I was imagining it. I sent him a photo.”
Olivia stared.
“You sent him Caleb’s photo?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Rachel’s voice dropped.
“He told me to forget the child.”
Michael’s face changed.
“And you did?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because two days later someone broke into my apartment.”
Everyone went silent.
“Nothing was stolen. They left one thing.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
Rachel looked at him.
“A copy of your birth certificate.”
His stomach tightened.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“With a red line through your name.”
Olivia sank into a chair.
Rachel continued.
“I understood the message.”
“You were afraid they’d hurt Ethan,” Olivia whispered.
“Yes.”
“You decided for us.”
“Yes.”
“Just like everyone else.”
Rachel lowered her head.
“Yes.”
Michael asked, “Where was Caleb after that?”
“Foster care.”
“How did he become homeless?”
Rachel’s face twisted.
“I don’t know all of it.”
“Try.”
“He was placed with three families over four years. The last foster father died. The wife surrendered the placement. Caleb ran from a group home six months ago.”
Ethan thought of the torn shoes.
The cardboard sign.
Food, not money.
“How long has he been on the street?”
“On and off.”
Olivia stood.
“We’re finding him.”
Michael nodded.
Rachel said, “He won’t come with you.”
Olivia turned.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I’ve been helping him.”
Ethan stared.
“What?”
“For two years.”
Olivia’s face became dangerous again.
“You met with my son for two years.”
“I brought food. Clothes. I tried to get him into stable placement.”
“You never told him who you were?”
Rachel looked at Ethan.
“He knows I’m his aunt.”
Everything exploded at once.
Olivia shouted.
Michael swore.
Ethan stood.
“He knows?”
Rachel cried.
“Yes.”
“Then why does he hate me?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Because Angela found him first.”
Olivia went silent.
Rachel continued.
“She told him you knew about him.”
Ethan stared at his mother.
Olivia looked horrified.
“She told him we chose Ethan.”
Rachel nodded.
“She told him you only wanted one baby.”
Olivia’s face collapsed.
“No.”
“She showed him documents.”
“Fake?”
“Some. Maybe not all.”
Michael said, “What documents?”
Rachel took out her phone.
She pulled up a photograph.
A hospital consent form.
Olivia’s signature at the bottom.
The typed words above it:
PARENTAL CONSENT FOR DISPOSITION OF INFANT B.
Olivia nearly dropped the phone.
“I never signed that.”
Michael took it.
“You signed something with the same last page.”
Olivia looked at him.
“What?”
“Post-operative consent forms.”
Her face changed.
“They switched pages.”
Rachel nodded.
“That’s what I think.”
Ethan felt sick.
Someone had taken a signature his mother gave while recovering from surgery and attached it to a document saying she surrendered his brother.
Caleb had seen it.
Of course he hated them.
To him, the evidence was clear.
Ethan was kept.
Caleb was given away.
“Where is he?” Olivia asked.
Rachel looked away.
“Rachel.”
“I don’t know.”
“You said you help him.”
“He stopped trusting me three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Angela contacted him again.”
Michael stood.
“Angela is alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan thought of Caleb at the wall.
The anger.
The command: Don’t ever show me your face again.
Maybe he had not chosen that street by accident.
Maybe someone put him there.
“Why was Caleb near us today?” Ethan asked.
The adults looked at him.
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
“That intersection is three blocks from our ice cream place.”
Olivia stared.
Ethan continued.
“If he hates me, why sit somewhere we might see him?”
Rachel’s expression changed.
“He wanted to be found.”
Michael looked at her.
“Or someone wanted him found.”
The phone rang.
Rachel’s phone.
Unknown number.
She stared at it.
Michael said, “Answer.”
Rachel put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice.
Calm.
Older.
“You should have stayed quiet.”
Rachel went white.
Olivia gripped the table.
Michael leaned toward the phone.
“Angela?”
The woman laughed softly.
Then said:
“Dr. Reed, you always were quicker than your wife.”
Michael’s face hardened.
“Where is Caleb?”
“Safe.”
Ethan moved closer.
Olivia grabbed his arm.
Angela continued.
“For now.”
Michael’s voice dropped.
“If you touch him—”
“Threats are such a poor substitute for gratitude.”
“Gratitude?”
“I gave you eight peaceful years with one son.”
Olivia made a sound of pure disbelief.
Angela said, “You were never supposed to see the other.”
“Why?” Olivia demanded.
A pause.
Then Angela answered:
“Because someone paid a great deal of money to make sure Baby B disappeared.”
Michael stared at the phone.
“Who?”
May you like
Angela laughed again.
“You should ask the man whose name is on your hospital.”
