“We just needyou to sit in here. Someone’s already on their way over.”

“My parents weresupposed to be on the way over! Where’s my mom?” I could feel the tearsbubbling in my eyes. Why wouldn’t anyone tell me what was going on? Had Carsyndenied my story? Did the store say I was shoplifting after all? Was I going toget charged with a crime? And why was my dad in handcuffs?

“Just sit inhere.” We were back in the waiting room.

“Please,” a fewtears spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. “Just tell me what’shappening.”

                He must have taken pity on me,because I saw something soften in his expression. “Your mom and dad are beingheld for questioning right now.”

“Questioning?But they didn’t have anything to do with the bracelet. I didn’t even call totell them I was going shopping. I’m probably in trouble for that already. Theyreally didn’t know about any of it!” I desperately tried to explain.

“It’s not aboutthe bracelet.”

I frowned. “Then…what’sit about?”

Obviously heregretted getting into this conversation with me. He looked down at the toes ofhis boots before answering, and when he looked up he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Youwere flagged in the database as a missing person.” 

“But I’m notmissing. I’m right here.”

“A social workeris on her way. She’ll be here any minute to explain it to you.”

“But I don’tunderstand. What crime are my parents being questioned about?” I asked.

He cleared histhroat before answering. “They’re being questioned about a kidnapping, Rain.”

It didn’t reallysink in right away. The word kept bouncing around in my suddenly-empty head, completelydevoid of all meaning. Kidnapping.

But why wouldthe police want to question them about something like that?

I wouldn’t getan answer for thirty-five minutes, the amount of time it took for the socialworker to arrive. I made about a dozen calls on my mobile phone to Aaron, mymom and dad and the house phone, but no one answered and I just listened toempty, hollow ringing as my tension mounted. Finally the social worker camebursting into the room, but I heard her coming well before the door flew open.She was wearing the clunky, square-heeled kind of shoes that made loud,clip-clopping sounds on the linoleum floor. There was a run on the left leg ofher pantyhose, and I could see a bit of lace where her hem was slipping pasther wrinkle-resistant polyester skirt. It was a nondescript brown color, likeher hair, and a poor match for the blue blouse she wore under the matchingjacket.

“Rebecca Keene,Child Protective Services,” she introduced herself immediately, thrusting apale, cold hand out toward me. I shook it automatically. She pulled backquickly, flipping open a manila folder to glance at it before looking back upat me. “You must be Chloe.”

“Chloe? No. I’mRain Ramey.”

“Ramey. Ramey,”she flipped open the folder again, turning pages. “Yes of course. Rain, right?”

“That’s me.” Inodded. Then, all the questions came exploding out of me. “What’s going on?Where are my parents? The policeman said something about kidnapping?”

She brushed alock of hair out of her eyes. It was just one of many tendrils that had escapedthe bun at the nape of her neck. Rebecca Keene looked tired and harried, and I’dnever missed my mother more than I did in that moment. “That’s right, Rain.Your parents are still being questioned in connection with an infant girl whodisappeared more than fourteen years ago.”

My head tiltedto one side as I stared at her. “But it’s all just a misunderstanding. Myparents haven’t kidnapped anybody.”

Rebecca Keenegazed at me before her eyes lowered to the folder in front of her. “Today, thechild would be sixteen years old. At birth, she had blue eyes and blonde hair.Like all babies born in the Silverwood Hospital since 1985, her fingerprintswere taken shortly after she was born. The fingerprints found a match for thefirst time tonight,” her dark green eyes found mind before she continued. “Whenyour ten-print card was ran through the database.”

My ears wereringing again. I felt my fingertips go numb. My eyes were cloudy; it seemed asthough I was looking at Rebecca Keene through fog. “I don’t understand.”

“Rain, you are amatch for that missing child. Arthur and Rhianna Ramey are not your naturalparents. They abducted you from your home when you were eighteen months old.”

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