Eleanor was listed as the mother.
The father was some man named Michael that she’d never mentioned.
Then I saw the name of the child on the birth certificate and my blood ran cold.
Find him for me, Daniel. I could not.
I reached into my glove box, where I still kept all my important papers from the time when I’d lived in my car.
Then I rushed back into Halsey’s office.
Marlene was still leaning over Halsey’s desk, voice sharp.
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“He has no right to any of it,” she snapped.
I walked past her and placed the birth certificate on the desk.
I rushed back into Halsey’s office.
Then I placed the photographs beside it.
The photo on top showed a young Eleanor holding a swaddled baby.
Marlene went quiet.
“Your aunt had a son,” I said. “She spent sixty years looking for him. She asked me to find him, but it turns out, I already know what happened to him.”
