I handed it to Tyler.
“Look at his neck.”
Tyler stared at the photograph, then toward the basement.
“No.”
I pointed to the picture.
“Noah has the same birthmark behind his ear. And he said his father’s name is Michael.”
Tyler went pale.
“Mom…”
Before long, the police arrived. I explained everything, including Michael’s disappearance, the necklace, the birthmark, and Noah’s father’s name.
Noah wasn’t under arrest. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I was simply desperate for answers.
Then one of the officers asked Noah where his father was.
“At home,” Noah said.
My stomach dropped.
“Call him,” I whispered.
Noah took out his phone.
His father answered after three rings.
Even from several feet away, I recognized the voice.
Older.
Deeper.
But familiar.
Noah asked, “Dad, where did you get Grandpa’s necklace?”
There was a long silence.
Then Noah said, “I’m at Tyler’s house. His mom says she knows it.”
