Chapter 8 - The First Time the Twins SpokeSawyer’s parents moved him temporarily to a secure location.
Everett agreed.
Daniel Frost did not trust him.
That became clear during their first video call.
“You don’t get to show up and decide what happens to my son.”
Everett looked at the man who had raised Sawyer.
Daniel was forty-four.
A public-school principal.
Tired eyes.
Protective voice.
Everett understood him immediately.
“I’m not trying to take him.”
“Your lawyers already filed to unseal records.”
“To find the truth.”
“Truth can become custody litigation very quickly.”
“I am not filing for custody.”
Miriam sat beside Daniel.
She looked less angry.
More frightened.
“We spent ten years believing his birth mother made a painful choice.”
Everett nodded.
“I know.”
“Now you’re saying maybe she didn’t.”
“I don’t know what Claire understood when she signed.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“Sawyer has a mother.”
Everett’s chest tightened.
“I know.”
“Say her name.”
Everett stared.
Daniel’s message was clear.
Respect her.
“Miriam.”
Daniel nodded.
“And a father.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
Everett forced himself through the pain.
“Yes.”
The tension changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
Miriam whispered:
“We’ll let the boys talk.”
Daniel turned.
“Miriam.”
“They already know.”
She looked at Everett.
“If we keep them apart now, we’re repeating what was done to them.”
Twenty minutes later, Finley sat in front of a laptop.
Everett sat several feet away.
Not beside him.
This was Finley’s conversation.
Miriam did the same for Sawyer.
The camera turned on.
Finley froze.
So did Sawyer.
Identical.
Not perfectly.
Sawyer’s scar broke the symmetry.
His hair was slightly longer.
Finley wore a navy hoodie.
Sawyer wore red.
But the effect was breathtaking.
Finley whispered:
“Whoa.”
Sawyer laughed nervously.
“Yeah.”
Finley leaned toward the screen.
“You really look like me.”
“You look like me.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Both smiled.
Everett had to look away because Claire should have been there.
Finley asked:
“What happened to your eyebrow?”
“Bike crash.”
“I never crashed.”
“Congratulations.”
Finley laughed.
Then silence.
Children searching for a script no adult could give them.
Sawyer finally asked:
“Are you actually my brother?”
“Dad says DNA says yes.”
Sawyer glanced offscreen.
“My mom says that too.”
Finley nodded.
“Do you like Minecraft?”
Everett almost cried.
Of all questions.
“Yes.”
“What do you build?”
“Mostly cities.”
“Me too.”
Sawyer stared.
“That’s weird.”
Finley grinned.
“Do you hate mushrooms?”
“Yes.”
Both boys went still.
Then laughed.
The conversation lasted twenty-seven minutes.
Video games.
School.
Soccer.
Favorite cereal.
Sawyer had a dog named Pickles.
Finley wanted one.
Sawyer played piano badly.
Finley played no instruments badly.
Then Finley asked:
“Did you know you were adopted?”
Sawyer’s smile faded.
“Yes.”
“Did you know I existed?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
Sawyer looked toward his mother.
Then back.
“Did our mom know?”
Finley hesitated.
Everett had told him some.
Not everything.
“She found out.”
Sawyer swallowed.
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
“Did she want me?”
Finley looked toward Everett.
Everett moved closer.
“That question should be answered carefully.”
Sawyer looked at him for the first time.
Really looked.
“Are you Everett?”
Not Dad.
Everett.
“Yes.”
“You’re my biological father.”
“Yes.”
Sawyer studied his face.
“I don’t know what to call you.”
“You can call me Everett.”
Daniel looked surprised.
So did Miriam.
Everett continued.
“You don’t owe me a title.”
Sawyer nodded.
“Did Claire want me?”
Everett’s throat tightened.
“I found a recording she made.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she saw you from across the street.”
Sawyer’s eyes widened.
“When?”
“When you were six.”
“Where?”
“Outside school.”
Sawyer’s face changed.
“I remember a lady.”
Everett stopped breathing.
“What?”
“A lady across the street.”
Miriam turned toward him.
“You never told us.”
“I forgot.”
“What did she look like?”
Sawyer thought.
“Brown hair.”
Finley whispered:
“Mom.”
Sawyer continued.
“She was crying.”
Everett covered his mouth.
“She waved.”
“Did you wave back?”
“Yes.”
Sawyer’s voice became small.
“Was that her?”
Everett nodded.
“I think so.”
Sawyer stared at the screen.
“She saw me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she come over?”
“Because she didn’t want to scare you or your parents before she understood what happened.”
Miriam began crying.
Sawyer looked at her.
Then back.
“I wish she did.”
Everett’s eyes filled.
“Me too.”
The boys talked another ten minutes.
When the call ended, Finley sat quietly.
Everett moved beside him.
“How do you feel?”
“Weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“Both.”
Fair.
Then Finley said:
“I like him.”
Everett smiled.
“Good.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“I think he does.”
Finley nodded.
Then his expression changed.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Octavia said Grandpa Harrison separated us.”
Everett waited.
“What if Sawyer hates me because I got to stay?”
The question broke him.
He hugged his son.
“No.”
“But he lost Mom.”
“So did you.”
“He lost you.”
Everett closed his eyes.
“That was not your choice.”
Finley whispered:
“I got everything.”
“No.”
“You had a different life.”
He pulled back.
“And Sawyer had people who loved him too.”
Finley nodded slowly.
Then Everett’s phone rang.
Moreno.
Police had identified the blood in August Pierce’s Vermont house.
Not August’s.
Harrison Vale’s.
Everett stared.
“My father-in-law is at home.”
“Not according to his security team.”
“What?”
“He left last night.”
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
“And his blood is in Pierce’s house?”
“Yes.”
A second result had come in.
One of the fingerprints on the photograph of Sawyer belonged to Harrison.
Whatever story Harrison had told—
May you like
he had been inside August Pierce’s house recently.
And he had lied about it.
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