He nodded numbly.
Uncle Nolan had these bright blue eyes. Right now they were really dark, and Christian saw that he did hurt.
“I need to make sure she didn’t steal you.”
“She wouldn’t!”
Uncle Nolan didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Mom had gotten arrested a few times for shoplifting. Confused, she forgot she had to pay for things she wanted.
So...she did steal sometimes.
“I’ve wrestled with myself about this. A big part of me doesn’t want to do anything about what we know. You’re mine, and I want to keep it that way.”
Christian waited, fire scorching his stomach.
“But then I imagine how I’d feel if you disappeared and I never knew what had happened to you. What if you had parents who loved you deeply and you were taken from them? How can we go on the way we are and leave them suffering?”
Christian didn’t care about anybody else, so long as he could stay with Uncle Nolan.
“I’m not asking your permission.” His uncle’s blue eyes were regretful now. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t do this.”
He shrank back. “What’s...this?”
“We need to take a DNA sample—which we can get from some spit, so it’s no big deal—and have someone at the sheriff’s department list it in a couple of databases.”
“So...somebody can find me.” He was shaking.
“So if your DNA is already in one of those databases, a match will come up.”
“You’ll let them take me, won’t you?” Suddenly he was on his feet shouting. “You can’t say no if they come! They’ll just take me.” He backed away. “You lied. You’re just like Mom. You’re both liars!”
And he ran, not caring that it was dark and cold and raining outside. He didn’t slow down even to slam the back door behind him. He just kept running.
“PHOENIX HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.” Dana smiled at the very young woman across from her. “His enrollment starts at the beginning of the quarter. The child-care facility is right off campus, which makes drop-off and pickup easy for students. It won’t cost you a cent, as long as you stay in school full-time and receive passing grades.”
This was the best part of her job working at a nonprofit focused on helping single women with children find opportunities. Lucy Evans had been considerably easier to help than many of Dana’s clients. Not quite twenty, she had a two-year-old boy. Her mother lived at a subsistence level and was unable to help except for babysitting evenings when Lucy worked at a bar. Lucy and her little boy drifted from shelters to cheap by-the-week motels back to shelters. Her income gave her no hope of anything better. So far, she had avoided the trap of going from man to man, smart enough to recognize that the men she met in those bars and run-down motels couldn’t offer economic and emotional stability. What she had over many of Dana’s clients, besides common sense, was a high school diploma and grades that would have won her admission to a four-year college had she not become pregnant her senior year.
After struggling since her son’s birth, she had finally come to A Woman’s Lifeline and begged for help. Since Dana had first talked to her, Lucy had been accepted into the local community college nursing program, starting summer quarter. Scholarships would cover the cost of tuition and books. She could continue her evening job, taking advantage of her mother’s willingness to babysit. Because of the child-care program Dana had secured for them, Lucy could devote breaks between classes to studying. Dana had also found her subsidized housing at a cost she thought Lucy could handle.
This was one young woman, Dana believed, who would make it and emerge strong and capable.
Dana was intensely grateful that A Woman’s Lifeline provided free on-site child care while its clients met with their caseworkers. She had seen Phoenix when she first talked with Lucy, and the sight of him had been like a stiletto to her heart. His brown eyes, blond hair and grin couldn’t possibly look as much like Gabriel’s as her first reaction suggested. Even so, it was far safer to avoid seeing him at all.
Lucy jumped to her feet as Dana stood and threw her arms around her. “Thank you!” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You’ve done so much for us. It’s like a miracle.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said. “Watching you succeed is going to give me more satisfaction than you can imagine. And, just so you know, I have no doubt whatsoever that you will succeed.”
Lucy was still wiping her eyes when she exited. Dana was surprised to find she had to blow her nose, too.
Fifteen minutes before her next appointment gave her time to have a cup of coffee. She was leaving her office when her mobile phone rang, the sound muffled because her purse was in a desk drawer. Knowing she was most often with clients during the day, friends and family rarely called during working hours. Heart pounding, she went back to her desk, fumbled the drawer open and delved into her handbag until she came up with the phone. She hated the hope that rose every single time the damn thing rang. Eleven years of painful, useless hope. It would be a neighbor letting her know she had a package UPS dropped off, or her dentist’s office urging her to schedule a cleaning.
She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. She answered with a simple “Hello.”
“Ms. Stewart?”
The familiar voice made her dizzy enough to grope for the arm of her desk chair and then sink into it.
“This is Commander Knapp from the Aurora PD.”
As if she wouldn’t know who he was. Dana could not summon a single word.
“I’m happier than I can say to tell you we’ve had a hit on NamUs.” He knew he didn’t have to explain anything about the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, not to her. “Your son is alive and well in a small town in Oregon.”
Something that should have been happiness but felt more like anguish swelled in her, pressing against her rib cage, rising in her throat, burning in her sinuses. She tried to speak, but she seemed to burst open at that moment, sobbing as she had never sobbed before. She couldn’t stop herself. She sat there, gripping the phone, and cried without even trying to check the deluge.
“Ms. Stewart?” Commander Knapp’s tinny voice rose from the phone. “I’ll give you a few minutes to process the news and then I’ll call back.”
She couldn’t even say thank you. The phone slipped from her fingers and dropped to the desk blotter. Tears kept gushing. Snot ran down her upper lip. A box of tissues kept for clients sat on the corner of her desk, but she couldn’t so much as reach for it.
Why did this feel so much like grief? Or was she letting go of an overload of grief that had built, day by day and year by year, until it was too much to contain?
Someone knocked. When she didn’t answer, the door cracked open. Jillian Markham, who had the next office, took one look and then rushed in.
“Oh, my God! Dana, what’s wrong?”
Dana’s face contorted and she cried harder.
Jillian saw the phone. “Bad news?”
Dana managed to shake her head.
“Oh, honey.” Jillian bent to hug her, deftly swiping her nose and cheeks with a tissue at the same time. “Just let it out.”
Dana couldn’t have said why that struck her as funny, but suddenly she was laughing