Noah came upstairs immediately.
He looked frightened and furious.
He moved straight toward Tyler.
“What is wrong with your mom?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I told her my dad’s name, and she locked me downstairs!”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Noah stared at me.
“You’re sorry?”
“I panicked.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“No.”
I held out the photograph.
“This is.”
He didn’t take it.
Tyler did.
He held it beside Noah.
“Look.”
Noah finally glanced down.
His face changed.
“Who’s that?”
“My uncle Michael,” Tyler said.
Noah frowned.
Then he looked closer.
“Why does he look like my dad?”
Nobody answered.
The police arrived a few minutes later.
By then, I was beginning to understand how insane the situation looked.
I explained everything.
Michael’s disappearance.
The pendant.
The birthmark.
The name.
One of the officers asked Noah several questions.
He was not under arrest.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
If anything, I was the person who had just locked an innocent young man in a basement.
