“She said I would probably have trouble having children.”
The room changed.
I felt it.
The strange pressure that occurs when scattered facts begin pulling toward the same center.
“Karen,” I said, “before you got sick, had you been dating anyone?”
Her face drained of color.
Evan looked at her.
She didn’t answer.
“Karen?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“A boy from school.”
“What happened?”
“My mother hated him.”
“Why?”
Karen laughed bitterly.
“Pick a reason. His father repaired cars. His mother cleaned offices. His surname was Ruiz.”
Daniel.
The thought arrived so suddenly I almost dismissed it.
Then the door opened.
Chief Daniel Ruiz stepped in.
“Judge Carter, Detective Morris asked me to—”
He stopped when he saw Karen.
Karen stared at him.
Something passed across her face.
Not recognition.
Something more primitive.
A flicker of shock with no name attached to it.
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Sorry. I can come back.”
I heard myself ask, “Chief, how old are you?”
He frowned.
“Thirty-six.”
Karen gripped the chair.
I looked at her.
“You were seventeen thirty-seven years ago.”
She stared at me.
Evan whispered, “Olivia…”
I held up a hand.
“Daniel, were you adopted?”
Silence.
His face hardened.
“How do you know that?”
I stopped breathing.
Karen made a small sound.
Daniel looked from me to her.
“Yes.”
His voice changed.
“I was adopted as an infant.”
Karen’s entire body began trembling.
“What month were you born?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Please.”
He studied her.
“March.”
Karen stood so quickly the chair scraped the floor.
“No.”
Daniel stepped backward.
Evan whispered, “Karen?”
She covered her mouth.
“No.”
I had spent half my life weighing evidence.
Coincidences happen.
They happen constantly.
