Chapter 8
Dr. Price was arrested in Canada six weeks later.
He had shaved his head and dyed his beard.
It did not matter.
The border cameras caught him using one of the fake passports Marla described.
When Harris called, I was making pancakes for Thomas and Emily in the protected apartment.
The pancakes burned.
Nobody cared.
Thomas asked, “Does that mean it’s over?”
I wanted to say yes.
But the truth mattered more now.
“It means the biggest door closed.”
He nodded.
“What about Ryan?”
“His trial starts next month.”
Thomas pushed syrup around his plate.
“Do I have to see him?”
“No.”
“Do I have to forgive him?”
“No.”
Emily looked relieved too.
Ryan tried to write letters.
One to me.
One to Emily.
One to Thomas.
I did not open mine.
Emily tore hers in half.
Thomas stared at his for a long time.
Then he asked me to read the first line.
My dear son.
Thomas took the letter back and ripped it slowly.
“He doesn’t get to start now,” he said.
I agreed.
The trial was brutal.
Ryan’s attorney said I was unstable.
Obsessed.
Unable to move on.
The same words Ryan had used for years.
But this time, the courtroom saw the video.
They saw the payments.
They saw the forged death certificate.
They heard Celeste testify that Ryan admitted Thomas was alive.
They heard Marla say Ryan paid her to keep him hidden.
Then Thomas chose to speak.
I begged him not to.
He said, “I want him to hear me.”
He testified by closed-circuit camera, away from Ryan’s eyes.
His voice shook, but he did not stop.
“My name is Thomas Bennett. I am not dead. I was hungry a lot. I was told my mom didn’t want me. That was a lie.”
I cried silently.
Emily held my hand.
Thomas continued.
“I don’t know why my father gave me away. I don’t think there is a good reason. I just want him to stop being able to hurt people.”
The jury convicted Ryan on every major count.
Kidnapping.
Conspiracy.
Fraud.
Child endangerment.
Obstruction.
He stared straight ahead when the verdict was read.
No tears.
No apology.
Just anger that the world had finally refused to believe him.
Dr. Price’s trial came later.
By then, three children from the list had been found alive.
Sophie was one of them.
Angela met her daughter in a courthouse family room with counselors nearby.
Sophie was eleven.
She had another name.
Another life.
But when Angela showed her the blanket, Sophie touched it and began to cry without understanding why.
Thomas watched from the hallway.
“Happy ending?” he asked.
“Beginning,” I said.
May you like
He nodded.
“I like that better.”
