Chapter 4: The Person Who Knew His Name
I called Ethan the next morning.
He answered after three rings.
“Mom?””
His voice was tired.
Probably annoyed.
I hated that I was about to change his entire world.
“Are you with Kai?””
A pause.
“Yeah.””
“Where?””
“Why?””
“Ethan, please. Just tell me.””
Another pause.
“His apartment.””
I closed my eyes.
“Listen to me carefully. I need you to come home.””
Silence.
Then:
“Mom, what is going on?””
I didn’t know how to explain that fear doesn’t always arrive with proof.
Sometimes it arrives with a memory.
Sometimes it arrives with a scar.
“Just come home.””
“Is this about Kai?””
I didn’t answer quickly enough.
That was all it took.
“You don’t trust him.””
It wasn’t a question.
“Ethan—”
“No.””
His voice cracked.
“No, Mom. Don’t do this.””
“Do what?””
“Act like you know something about him because you saw a scar.””
I went quiet.
Because he was right.
That was exactly what I was doing.
“I know what I saw.””
“And I know what I see,” he replied.
“I see someone who makes me happy.””
The words hurt.
Not because they were cruel.
Because they were true.
“I’m not trying to hurt you.””
“Then stop treating him like he’s dangerous.””
I wanted to tell him everything.
About the boy at Riverside.
About the report.
About the phone call.
But I also knew something.
If I was wrong, I could destroy the relationship between my son and someone innocent.
So I asked the only question I could.
“Ethan, did Kai ever tell you about his childhood?””
The silence lasted too long.
Finally:
“Some.””
“What does that mean?””
“He said he bounced around a lot.””
“Foster homes?””
“I guess.””
“Did he mention Riverside Elementary?””
Another pause.
Then Ethan lowered his voice.
“Why do you know that name?””
My heart sank.
Because now I knew.
Kai had talked about it.
Just not with me.
“I need you to come home,” I said again.
But Ethan didn’t answer.
Instead, I heard another voice in the background.
Kai.
“What’s wrong?””
Ethan must have looked away from the phone.
Because suddenly Kai spoke directly.
“Mrs. Bennett?””
My grip tightened.
“How did you get the phone?””
“Ethan handed it to me.””
I looked at the clock.
Only seconds had passed.
But everything felt different.
“Kai.””
“Yes?””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
Silence.
Then:
“Because I wanted to see if you remembered me.””
My breath stopped.
“You knew I would?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
A long pause.
Then he said:
“Because you kept the photo.””
I froze.
“What photo?””
“The one from the nurse’s office.””
My hand went numb.
Nobody knew about that.
Not Ethan.
Not my husband.
Not anyone.
I had kept one picture.
A single photograph of a frightened seven-year-old boy because I had always wondered what happened to him.
“How do you know about that?””
Kai didn’t answer.
Instead, he said something that made my entire body go cold.
“Because I saw you take it.””
The call ended.
I stood in my kitchen staring at my phone.
Then I heard something.
A sound from the hallway.
A key turning in the front door.
I slowly looked up.
Nobody was supposed to be home.
The door opened.
And standing there was the retired police officer whose name appeared on the old report.
Detective Mark Hayes.
The man who had investigated Kai’s disappearance twelve years ago.
He looked older.
Tired.
Terrified.
His eyes moved around my house.
Then landed on me.
“You found him,” he whispered.
I stepped back.
“What did you do?””
Hayes shook his head.
“I didn’t find him.””
He looked toward the stairs.
“He found you.””
Then he handed me a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
But the handwriting wasn’t Hayes’s.
It was Kai’s.
May you like
And underneath my name were five words:
*The truth you buried is inside.*
