Later, they were moved to another property.
They were given different names.
Caleb became Daniel.
Owen became Oliver.
They were told their mother had stopped looking.
That I’d sold the house.
That I had another family now.
My chest ached with every word.
“Did you believe them?”
Owen looked down.
“Sometimes.”
I covered my mouth.
He continued.
“Caleb never did.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“He kept telling me you’d come.”
I looked at my son.
“Where is Caleb now?”
Owen began trembling.
“Working for them.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
He swallowed.
“They made him help with deliveries.”
He looked frightened.
“Boxes. Papers. Trucks.”
The same deliveries Ben had documented.
The same unfamiliar men.
The same hidden payments.
Owen continued.
“Caleb said if he cooperated, they wouldn’t hurt me.”
I closed my eyes.
My older boy had been fourteen when he disappeared.
A child.
And someone had forced him to carry responsibilities no child should ever face.
