The Homecoming by Anne Marie Winston

bit her lip fiercely as her eyes welled with tears.
    Terrence Logan put one arm around his wife’s shaking shoulders. “Can you help us?” he asked the private investigator.
    The man shrugged. “I can try. But there are no guarantees in this kind of work.”
    â€œWe understand that,” Terrence said.
    â€œNow tell me everything you know about this…” He consulted his notes. “Everett Baker.”
    â€œHe was an employee of Children’s Connection, the adoption and infertility treatment program that’s been our special project for years,” Terrence said. “He was arrested for kidnapping babies and adopting them out to wealthy people for astronomical sums of money.”
    â€œYou already know our firstborn son was abducted at the age of six. About a year later we were told his body had been found. Now we learn that our son didn’t die.” Leslie carefully dabbed beneath her eyes one final time, then straightened her shoulders.
    â€œAnd this Baker says he’s your son?” the P.I. asked.
    Terrence nodded.
    â€œI know what you’re thinking.” Leslie leaned forward. “Fortune hunter, right? But we’re already convinced he’s our son, based on things he’s spoken of that no one else could possibly have known. We simply want you to fill in the blanks.”
    â€œWhy don’t you just ask him to take a DNA test?”
    â€œWe will,” Leslie said, “but we want to know more about him before we discuss that.”
    â€œHe’s been accused of a crime,” Terrence said bluntly. “And we don’t believe he would willingly have done the things he’s accused of without someone else leading him on. We need information because we plan to provide for Robbie—for Everett’s defense.”
    â€œI’ll have to check your information,” the investigator said almost apologetically. “I’ll only take on the case if I believe you have a legitimate reason for wanting information about this young man.” He grimaced. “I’ve had too many enraged spouses in my office wanting background on someone for the sole purpose of harming them in some way.”
    Terrence nearly smiled. “We appreciate ethical convictions. That only convinces me you’re the right person for the job.”
    â€œOur lives are an open book,” Leslie said. “Would you like us to give you the names of people you can talk with about us?”
    The man nodded. “That would be helpful, Mrs. Logan.”
    Leslie stood and went to an elegant mahogany desk along one wall of the sitting room in which they’d met with the investigator. She returned with a notepad as well as a slim file folder, which she handed to the man. “This is everything we know about our son’s past, both before and after he was abducted.” She sat again and took several moments to write on the notepad she held. Tearing off the top sheet, she extended it to him. “Theseare people you can call for references on us as well as for any more information on the original investigation. The first name is the retired police chief who handled the abduction when it occurred. The second is the general number for Children’s Connection. People there knew Everett Baker. They also know us and you can speak with anyone there you like. The last three numbers are our family physician and two longtime friends. Our children’s names—our other children’s names—and numbers are already in the folder, in case you should need to speak with them. But they’re all younger than Robbie. None of them even knew him.” Her lip quivered again but she took a deep breath and bit into her lip. After a moment, her lovely features relaxed again.
    The private investigator stood, sliding the loose note into the folder as he extended his hand first to Terrence and then to Leslie. “I expect that will be a formality, Mr.