"Did Owen know I tried to contact him when I was eighteen?"
Robert did not answer immediately.
"I don't know yet."
Mason nodded slowly.
"Then find out."
"We will."
"Whatever it takes."
Robert looked directly at him.
"We'll follow the evidence."
Mason returned to his chair.
He did not speak again for several minutes.
Bear sat beside him.
Finally, the older biker placed a hand on Mason's shoulder.
"Brother."
Mason looked at him.
"You didn't abandon that kid."
Mason swallowed.
Bear continued.
"You were a kid yourself."
Mason lowered his head.
For the first time in decades, he allowed himself to consider that perhaps he had not failed Owen.
Perhaps he had simply been prevented from reaching him.
That evening, Mason visited Hannah and the children.
Caleb was sitting on the living-room floor, building a model motorcycle.
He had spread the pieces across the carpet and was using a small screwdriver that had been part of Daniel's old tool collection.
Mia sat nearby, coloring.
Scout was positioned beside the instruction booklet as though supervising the construction.
When Mason entered, Caleb looked up.
"Uncle Mace!"
Mason smiled.
"How's the project?"
"Terrible."
"What's wrong?"
"The instructions are stupid."
Mason looked at the pieces.
"You're putting the rear wheel on backward."
Caleb frowned.
"No, I'm not."
Mason pointed.
"Yes, you are."
Caleb examined the wheel.
Then he looked at Mason.
"How do you know?"
"Because I can see it."
"That's cheating."
Mason laughed.
Mia held up her drawing.
It showed a large black motorcycle with four people sitting on it.
There was also a teddy bear attached to the back.
"That's us," she explained.
Mason studied the picture.
"Who's driving?"
"Me."
Hannah, standing in the kitchen, immediately called out.
"Absolutely not."
Mia sighed.
"Nobody lets me do anything."
Mason crouched beside her.
"How about when you're older?"
"How old?"
"Older than today."
"That's not an answer."
"You're a tough negotiator."
Mia nodded proudly.
"Mom says I'm stubborn."
"She might be right."
Hannah appeared in the doorway.
"Don't encourage her."
Mason smiled.
For a few minutes, he forgot about the documents.
He helped Caleb repair the model motorcycle, listened to Mia explain the rules of an imaginary game, and ate a piece of cake Hannah had bought from the grocery store.
Then Caleb noticed the folder in Mason's hand.
"What's that?"
"Some papers."
"About Dad?"
Mason hesitated.
"About your dad and me."
Caleb put down the screwdriver.
"Did you find something?"
"Yes."
"Good something?"
Mason sat beside him.
"Something important."
Caleb looked at Scout.
"Does it mean Dad knew you were looking?"
Mason considered his answer.
"I think he eventually found out."
"Was he mad?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
Mason smiled sadly.
"Because he wrote me letters."
Caleb's eyes widened.
"More letters?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Seventeen that we found. And one more inside Scout."
Caleb looked at the bear.
"That was a lot."
"It was."
"Why didn't he send them?"
Mason glanced toward Hannah.
She had stopped moving.
"Your father was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of being rejected."
Caleb frowned.
"Why would you reject him?"
Mason looked down.
"Sometimes people get older and start believing things that aren't true."
"Like what?"
"That they're too late. That somebody has forgotten them. That the other person has moved on."
Caleb considered this.
"That's stupid."
Mason laughed softly.
"Sometimes."
Caleb returned to his model.
After a moment, he asked, "Did you ever think Dad forgot you?"
Mason looked at the child.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't find him."
Caleb shook his head.
"That's not the same thing."
Mason felt his throat tighten.
"No," he said quietly. "It isn't."
Caleb placed the screwdriver down.
Then he leaned against Mason's arm.
"Well, I didn't forget you."
Mason closed his eyes for a moment.
"Thank you, kid."
"And Mia didn't forget you either."
Mia looked up.
"I don't forget anybody."
Hannah laughed from the kitchen.
"That's true. You remember every embarrassing thing anyone has ever done."
Mia nodded.
"It's important."
Mason smiled.
For a moment, the room was filled with the kind of ordinary happiness he had spent years imagining.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from Robert.
We located a former caseworker who may be willing to speak with us. Her name is Margaret Ellis. She was involved in your brother's placement.
Mason read the message twice.
Then he looked at Hannah.
"I think we're about to learn something."
Margaret Ellis lived in a small house on the edge of town.
She was seventy-nine years old, retired, and had spent much of her career working in child welfare.