The Boy Called Matthew

Adrian stared at Lily as though the fate of the world rested in her next words.

"What else?" he asked again.

Lily wiped her eyes.

"He used to draw boats."

Adrian's heart pounded.

"What kind of boats?"

"The little wooden kind. He said his father made one for him."

The room spun.

Noah's favorite toy had been a handmade wooden sailboat Adrian carved himself during a family vacation.

No detective had ever known that.

No orphanage record could have contained it.

No stranger could have guessed it.

"Where is this children's home?" Adrian asked.

"St. Jude's Home for Children," Lily replied. "Outside Greenville."

Within an hour Adrian's private jet was being prepared.

By dawn the next morning, he stood in the director's office at St. Jude's.

The records were old.

Some were missing.

Some had been destroyed during a flood years earlier.

But one file remained.

A photograph.

A frightened little boy.

Dark hair.

Bright eyes.

The name on the file read:

MATTHEW JAMES.

Estimated age: 5.

Found wandering alone.

No known relatives.

Adrian's hands trembled.

It was Noah.

Older.

Thinner.

But unmistakably Noah.

For ten years, his son had not been dead.

His son had simply disappeared into the cracks of the system.

But where was he now?

The director looked at Adrian with sadness.

"He left when he turned eighteen."

Adrian felt his hope collapse.

The trail had gone cold again.

Then Lily pointed to the back of the file.

"There."

A folded page.

An old address.

The last place Matthew had worked before leaving the home.

For the first time in ten years, Adrian had a direction.