A Woman Who Knew the Truth
“Mason!”
A woman in her early fifties hurried toward them, concern etched deeply into her face. She gently but firmly drew the boy back to her side, protective yet composed.
“How many times have I told you not to wander off?”
She turned to Lucas.
“I’m sorry, officer. He’s very curious.”
Lucas noticed how she held Mason’s hand—secure, practiced, caring.
“It’s alright,” Lucas said softly.
Mason tugged at his sleeve again.
“Ms. Harper, look! He has the same tattoo as my dad.”
The woman’s gaze dropped to Lucas’s arm.
And the color drained from her face.
Her grip on Mason tightened instantly.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
Lucas straightened.
“Please,” he said. “May I ask you something about his father? I think I might be able to help.”
She studied him carefully—guarded, weary, with the expression of someone who had learned caution the hard way.
“Do you know someone with that tattoo?”
“My brother,” Lucas replied. “He has the same one.”
She hesitated.
“What’s his name?”
“Ryan Reed.”
She let out a slow breath, as though she’d been holding it for years.
“Come inside,” she said quietly. “We need to talk.”
