Chapter 7 - The Son Laura Almost Lost Twice
Thomas ran the next day.
Laura caused it.
She knew that almost immediately.
Detective Ruiz had asked Thomas to describe the male voice.
Laura stood behind him.
“Was it Charles?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I am.”
“Did he say your name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Thomas, this matters.”
He pushed back his chair.
“I know.”
“Then please try.”
“I said I don’t remember!”
Laura heard fear and answered with pressure.
“What did Marlene call him?”
“I don’t know!”
“You lived with her for nine years!”
The room went silent.
Thomas stared at her.
Laura regretted it before he spoke.
“So now it’s my fault?”
“No.”
“You said nine years like I should have taken notes.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He grabbed his backpack.
Laura reached for him.
“Thomas.”
He jerked away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He ran.
By the time Laura reached the street, he was gone.
For three hours, she relived nine years.
Police searched transit stations.
Shelters.
Parks.
Emily sat in Sarah’s office, pale and furious.
“You scared him.”
Laura looked at her.
“I know.”
“You were acting like the detective.”
“I know.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“He just got here.”
That sentence broke Laura more effectively than any accusation.
He just got here.
And already Laura had treated him as a source of evidence instead of a child.
Emily stood.
“I know where he went.”
Laura stared.
“How?”
“He likes the park near the library.”
“You knew?”
“He told me yesterday.”
Laura realized Thomas had spoken to Emily because Emily did not interrogate him.
They found him beneath a gazebo on Boston Common.
His backpack sat beside him.
Emily approached first.
She held out half a sandwich.
Thomas looked at it.
“You always carry food?”
“Now I do.”
He almost smiled.
Laura remained several feet away.
Thomas saw her.
His face hardened.
She did not move closer.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked away.
“I’m not going to ask you anything.”
Silence.
“I wanted answers so badly that I forgot you’re not the answer. You’re my son.”
Thomas swallowed.
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
Laura forced herself to say it.
“I know who you were at six. I don’t know who you are at fifteen.”
His eyes met hers.
“And you don’t know me either.”
“No.”
“We’re going to have to learn.”
Thomas stared at the sandwich.
“What if I don’t want to live with you?”
The question crushed her.
Laura answered anyway.
“Then we work with people you trust and figure out what makes you feel safe.”
“You wouldn’t make me?”
“No.”
Emily frowned.
“I would.”
Thomas laughed unexpectedly.
It was the first time Laura heard his real laugh.
Small.
Rusty.
Beautiful.
He came home.
Not because everything was fixed.
Because he chose to.
That night, he told Laura something he had never told police.
When he was eight, Marlene had taken him to the Bennett estate.
“It was nighttime.”
“Why?”
“She said we were meeting the person who paid rent.”
“Charles?”
“I didn’t see him at first.”
Thomas remembered waiting in a back hallway.
He had heard voices through a door.
Marlene crying.
A man saying, “Two more years and this becomes permanent.”
Laura frowned.
“Permanent how?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Thomas had wandered toward the library.
He saw Charles.
And someone else.
“Grandma.”
Laura went still.
“Eleanor?”
Thomas nodded.
“She saw me.”
“What did she do?”
“She started crying.”
Laura’s heart accelerated.
“What did she say?”
Thomas closed his eyes, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘He looks exactly like James.’”
“And Charles?”
“He told her to stop.”
Thomas looked at Laura.
“Grandma knew.”
Laura’s anger turned icy.
The next morning, she confronted Eleanor by phone.
Eleanor denied everything.
Thomas listened from the doorway.
Laura said, “He remembers you.”
“He was eight.”
“He remembers you crying.”
“He could have seen photographs.”
“He remembers the library with the green ceiling.”
Silence.
That room had not appeared in public photographs.
Laura whispered, “Eleanor.”
The older woman began breathing unevenly.
“I thought he was safe.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
Laura stared at the phone.
“You knew.”
“I was told you were unstable.”
“By Charles?”
“And James.”
Laura froze.
Thomas did too.
“What did you say?”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“Your husband knew Thomas was alive.”
Thomas stepped backward as if struck.
Laura whispered, “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
May you like
Then Eleanor said something worse.
“James signed the arrangement himself.”
