Chapter 3 - The Mother Who Never Stopped
Sarah Mercer arrived in Connecticut at 8:17 the next morning.
She had driven through the night from Richmond with an FBI victim specialist and a Virginia detective who had worked Lucas’s disappearance for six years.
Sarah was thirty-seven.
Her hair was darker than Tyler expected.
Her face looked older than the photograph police showed him.
But the eyes were the same eyes he saw in the mirror.
He hated that immediately.
They did not allow Sarah to rush into the room.
Miriam explained the rules.
“No physical contact unless he initiates it.”
“I understand.”
“Do not call him Lucas if he asks you not to.”
Sarah swallowed.
“That’s his name.”
“It is also connected to a life he doesn’t remember.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“What do I call him?”
“Tyler.”
The name hurt.
Miriam saw it.
“If you want a relationship with him, you start where he is.”
Sarah nodded.
Tyler watched through the observation-room glass.
“That’s her?”
Martinez stood beside him.
“Yes.”
“She looks normal.”
Martinez almost smiled.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
A monster, perhaps.
That was what Mark had described without using the word.
Tyler had grown up hearing that his mother had been reckless.
Then unstable.
Then dead.
The details shifted depending on the year.
He had never noticed.
Sarah entered slowly.
Tyler stared.
She sat across from him.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Sarah said, “Hi, Tyler.”
He flinched.
“You know that’s not my real name.”
“I know it’s the name you use.”
“Are you Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“Are you my mother?”
Her lips trembled.
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
Miriam shifted uncomfortably.
Sarah did not.
“You had three stitches in your chin when you were two because you tried to ride a laundry basket down the stairs.”
Tyler touched his chin.
There was a faint scar.
“My dad told me I fell off a porch.”
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“You hated bananas unless they were frozen.”
Tyler looked away.
“You called fire trucks ‘red cows’ for six months.”
“That’s stupid.”
“It was.”
A tiny smile almost appeared.
Sarah continued.
“You slept holding a blue dinosaur named Captain Bite.”
Tyler’s breathing changed.
“He had one tooth missing.”
Sarah covered her mouth.
Tyler stared at her.
“You still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was yours.”
He became angry again.
“Why didn’t you find me?”
Sarah took the blow without defending herself too quickly.
“I tried.”
“For six years?”
“Yes.”
“How hard?”
“Tyler—”
“How hard?”
Sarah opened the bag beside her.
Not to produce proof as a performance.
Because she had brought it in case he asked.
Inside were missing-person posters.
Hundreds of them.
Old newspaper clippings.
Private-investigator invoices.
Copies of letters to state police.
Bank statements showing payments to search firms.
Photographs of Sarah standing beside age-progressed images at press conferences.
A six-year timeline.
Tyler picked up one flyer.
MISSING: LUCAS JAMES MERCER.
The child in the picture looked vaguely familiar.
Not like him.
Like a version of him that had never happened.
“You put these everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“Dad said nobody wanted me.”
Sarah made a small sound.
“What?”
“He said you chose your job.”
Sarah’s face hardened with grief.
“No.”
“He said you let him take me because you didn’t want court anymore.”
“No.”
“You’re calling him a liar.”
Sarah’s eyes met his.
“Yes.”
The answer shocked him.
Adults usually softened things for children.
Sarah did not.
“Your father lied to you about me.”
Tyler stood.
“Stop.”
“He also lied about his name.”
“STOP!”
He shoved the papers away.
Sarah did not move.
“You don’t get to come here and tell me my whole life is fake!”
“No.”
“Yes, you do!”
“No.” Sarah’s voice broke. “I get to tell you I love you. The rest can wait.”
Tyler stared at her.
“You don’t know me.”
Sarah’s tears fell now.
“That is the part I hate most.”
Tyler froze.
Sarah continued.
“I know who you were at four. I don’t know who you are at ten.”
The honesty disarmed him.
“I don’t know what foods you hate now. I don’t know your friends. I don’t know what makes you laugh. I don’t know whether you still wake up early or whether you like baseball or hate it.”
“I play soccer.”
Sarah nodded.
“Okay.”
“I hate bananas now.”
A broken laugh escaped her.
“Still?”
“Unless they’re frozen.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
Tyler instantly regretted saying it.
He turned away.
Miriam ended the meeting after twenty minutes.
No hug.
No dramatic reunion.
Sarah left the room alone.
In the hallway, she finally collapsed against the wall.
The Virginia detective, Paul Avery, caught her.
“He remembers something.”
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“That’s worse.”
Meanwhile, Detective Brooks had another problem.
Brenda wanted a lawyer.
Then she changed her mind.
She wanted a deal.
Brooks entered the interrogation room.
Brenda sat in orange jail scrubs.
“You found Sarah.”
“Yes.”
Brenda’s jaw tightened.
“Of course she came.”
“You helped David Mercer abduct Lucas?”
“No.”
“Then explain the documents.”
“I can explain Mark.”
“David.”
“He hasn’t called himself that in six years.”
“You knew.”
Brenda stared at the table.
Brooks waited.
Finally Brenda said, “Not at first.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Brenda leaned forward.
“You think I’m the worst person in this?”
“You assaulted a ten-year-old.”
“He betrayed me.”
“He called police because you hit him.”
“He was leaving me for her!”
Brooks stared.
“He had met Sarah for less than half an hour.”
Brenda’s eyes flooded with rage.
“You don’t understand what I gave up for that boy.”
“What did you give up?”
Brenda smiled without warmth.
“My real name.”
Brooks stopped.
“What is your real name?”
Brenda did not answer.
Instead she said, “Ask Mark what happened on April seventeenth.”
“The day Lucas disappeared?”
Brenda’s smile vanished.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He didn’t take that boy alone.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Who helped him?”
May you like
Brenda stared directly into her eyes.
“I did.”
