Chapter 8: The Child in the Photograph
My mother stared at my phone for several seconds.
Then she whispered, "Who sent this?""
"I don't know. It's an unknown number.""
She read the message again.
Ask her what happened to the little girl in the hospital photograph.
I looked at her.
"Mom, what little girl?""
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she took the phone from my hand and showed the message to the officer.
"Can you trace this number?""
"We'll submit it to our technical team," he replied.
"But don't respond yet.""
My grandmother had moved closer.
"Angela, what photograph is he talking about?""
My mother closed her eyes.
"The hospital photograph from the folder.""
"The one of Maya after her surgery?""
My mother nodded.
I frowned.
"What's wrong with that picture?""
She looked at me.
"Nothing is wrong with the picture itself. But there's something I never told you about that hospital.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"Please don't tell me there are more secrets.""
She took my hands.
"When you were eight, you had surgery at St. Mary's Hospital. You remember?""
I nodded.
"I remember the stuffed rabbit.""
"You had complications afterward. Nothing permanent, but you needed another night of observation.""
I waited.
"Your grandfather visited us that evening. He brought the photograph because he wanted a copy for his office.""
"Okay.""
My mother looked toward Grandma Margaret.
"Do you remember what happened afterward?""
Grandma's eyes filled.
"Yes.""
She turned toward me.
"Your grandfather received a phone call that night. He left the hospital in a hurry. He never came back.""
I frowned.
"But Grandpa died three years later.""
"Yes," my mother said.
"But that night changed everything.""
She took a slow breath.
"Before he left, your grandfather told me that someone had been asking questions about your birth records.""
My stomach dropped.
"My birth records?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
My mother looked away.
"Because there was an error in the original hospital paperwork.""
I shook my head.
"What kind of error?""
"Your father was listed as your biological father, but the hospital couldn't locate the original paternity confirmation document.""
I stared at her.
"What are you saying?""
She squeezed my hands.
"I'm saying that your grandfather became suspicious that someone had altered your records.""
I stepped back.
"Does Dad know?""
My mother nodded.
"He was the one who requested the original documents.""
I couldn't speak.
My entire childhood had been built around the idea that Richard Brooks was my father.
He had taught me to ride a bike.
He had walked me to kindergarten.
He had held me when I had nightmares.
Now I was being told that even my birth records might have been manipulated.
"Mom, is he my father?""
She began crying.
"I don't know, sweetheart.""
That answer hurt more than anything else.
Before I could respond, the auditorium doors opened again.
A tall man in a gray suit walked inside.
His hair was darker than my father's, and he carried a leather briefcase.
I recognized him from old family photographs.
Uncle Daniel.
He looked directly at my mother.
"Angela.""
She immediately stepped in front of me.
"Stay away from Maya.""
Daniel raised both hands.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone.""
"You've done enough.""
He glanced at the officers.
"I'd like to speak with my sister privately.""
One officer blocked his path.
"Sir, you'll need to identify yourself first.""
"Daniel Brooks.""
The officer checked his identification.
"You're the individual who called Mrs. Brooks?""
Daniel nodded.
"Yes. I have information relevant to the investigation.""
My mother laughed bitterly.
"Then give it to them.""
Daniel placed his briefcase on the nearest table.
He opened it and removed a thick blue folder.
"William's private trust records.""
Grandma Margaret gasped.
"Where did you get those?""
"Your husband gave them to me.""
"Why did you keep them hidden?""
Daniel looked at me.
"Because they contain information about Maya.""
I felt my heart pounding.
"What information?""
He removed a sealed envelope.
The handwriting on it was unmistakable.
My grandfather's.
Across the front were five words:
*FOR MAYA, ON HER EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY.*
My mother reached for it.
Daniel pulled it away.
"Not so fast.""
The officer stepped forward.
"Give her the envelope.""
Daniel sighed and placed it on the table.
I picked it up.
My hands were shaking.
Inside was a letter and a small photograph.
The photograph showed my mother holding a newborn baby.
Beside her stood a man I didn't recognize.
He was younger than my father, with dark eyes and a small scar across his chin.
On the back, my grandfather had written:
The truth about Maya's birth must remain protected until she is old enough to understand.
I looked at my mother.
"Who is this man?""
She stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered his name.
"Jonathan Reed.""
Daniel leaned against the table.
"Your grandfather suspected that Jonathan was your biological father.""
My knees nearly buckled.
I looked at my mother.
"Is that true?""
She was crying too hard to answer.
Daniel opened the blue folder.
"There's more. Jonathan never disappeared. He's been looking for Maya for eighteen years.""
I stared at him.
"Then where is he?""
Daniel slowly removed another photograph.
It showed the same man standing outside a courthouse.
The date printed on the back was only three weeks old.
My mother grabbed the edge of the table.
"No.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
May you like
She whispered the words as though saying them might make them real.
"Jonathan was supposed to be dead.""
