The Stuffed Dog
That night, the twins were placed with an emergency foster family.
Before they left, Jonah asked me one thing.
“Are you leaving too?”
I had signed billion-dollar agreements with less hesitation than I felt in that moment.
“For tonight,” I answered carefully. “But I’ll check on you tomorrow in every way I’m allowed.”
Maisie studied me.
“That means you won’t lie.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t lie.”
She hugged me quickly, like she expected to be told she had done it wrong.
Then Jonah hugged me too, the stuffed dog pressed between us.
The toy’s name was Scout.
The following weeks moved slowly.
Brianna claimed she had been overwhelmed. She insisted someone had been coming to get the children. Then her story shifted. And shifted again.
Records showed Samuel had left everything for the twins.
A house.
Savings.
Education funds.
But after his death, large amounts had disappeared.
Brianna had purchased a one-way international ticket.
Without the children.
Then one morning, Rachel called me.
Her voice was careful.
“Holden, Jonah is asking for you. He says Scout has something important.”
I drove myself to the family services office.
When I arrived, Jonah was sitting in the corner with Scout in his lap. Maisie sat beside him, holding his hand.
Rachel was there.
So was Caroline.
That alone told me this mattered.
I lowered myself onto the carpet a short distance away.
“Hi, Jonah.”
He didn’t lift his head.
Maisie leaned closer and whispered, “Show him.”
Jonah shook his head.
So I waited.
After a long pause, he slowly turned Scout around. Beneath the collar was a small hidden zipper.
Maisie reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny zipper tab.
“Daddy gave this to me,” she said softly. “He told me Scout would know what to do if the storm came.”
Rachel gave a small nod, encouraging her to continue.
Maisie carefully opened the compartment.
Inside was a folded piece of paper wrapped around a small flash drive.
Caroline slipped on gloves before touching it.
Six words were written on the outside of the note, in Samuel’s handwriting.
If something happens, find Holden Cross.
The room fell completely silent.
Caroline unfolded the paper.
Samuel had written that he had uncovered something involving Brianna, the missing money, and the twins’ birth mother, April.
Brianna had told the children their real mother was gone.
But inside the note was a photograph.
A woman stood along the Oregon coast, holding two toddlers in her arms.
On the back was a date.
Eight months ago.
April Lyle had been alive eight months ago.
And behind her, partially hidden at the edge of the image, stood Brianna.
Smiling.
