I stepped closer. “Oliver, where is your mom?”
His face crumpled. “I don’t know.”
Maribel gently explained what they had learned. Oliver had been in the back seat of a rideshare hit by a drunk driver. The driver was injured but alive. Oliver had no phone. In his backpack, police found a sealed envelope, a change of clothes, and my contact card.
“Was your mother in the car?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She put me in it.”
“Where were you going?”
“To you.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Oliver reached for his backpack with his good hand. “She said not to open the letter unless I got scared.”
Maribel looked at me. “We haven’t opened it. We were waiting for a guardian.”
“I’m not his guardian.”
“No,” she said softly. “But right now, you’re the only adult he’ll talk to.”
Oliver held out the envelope. My name was written across the front in Rachel’s handwriting. Nora.
I sat beside his bed and carefully opened it. The letter was short, messy, rushed.
Nora, if Oliver is with you, it means I finally did what I should have done years ago. I’m sorry I disappeared. I’m sorry I called you a liar when you were the only one brave enough to tell the truth.
Mark found us again. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t risk Oliver. He doesn’t know everything. Please don’t let him go with Mark. Call Detective Jonah Reed at the number below. He knows part of it.
You don’t owe me anything. I know that. But you once saw me clearly when everyone else only saw what was easy. I’m asking you to see my son now.
