The Papers That Said I Gave Them Up

“Our organization gives the biological parents a substantial relocation payment when they voluntarily give up their rights,” Vance said, his delivery still smooth. “That arrangement is lawful if everyone agrees. Your former wife approached us three months ago. She said she had no money, was living with a violent partner, and believed you had been permanently committed overseas. She asked us to secure emergency placements for the children.”

I faced Sarah. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor while tears slid down her cheeks.

“You put them up for sale,” I said. The thought seemed to tighten around my lungs. “While I was under mortar fire in the desert, you were arranging to trade my children for money.”

“I had no choice!” Sarah cried, her voice turning sharp. “Look around, David! Greg lost his work. He gambled away what we had saved. We were about to lose the house! They offered enough to save us. They promised the children would have good families—doctors, lawyers, people who could give them a future.”

My stomach clenched with a deep, empty sickness. She had not merely left them in Greg’s violent home. She had tried to use them to solve her problems.

Then the missing piece settled into place, and the dread sharpened.

My eyes went to the three packs on the table. Maya’s, Liam’s, and Toby’s.

“Where’s Toby?” I asked. My voice came out unfamiliar, drained of life.

No one answered. Greg rose slowly from the floor with one hand against his chest. He glanced at Sarah, and she turned toward Vance.

“Where is my son?” I demanded, forcing the words out through my teeth.

From the corner, Maya made a faint, frightened sound. “Daddy,” she breathed.

I turned toward her at once, letting the anger loosen its grip on my voice. “You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Tell me where Toby went.”

“The men in suits came yesterday,” Maya said, trembling. “Mom said Toby was going to a special camp. They took his bag. He was crying, Daddy. He didn’t want to leave.”

I faced Vance again. He was edging toward the front entrance, one hand reaching for his silver case.

“The five-year-old’s placement was completed yesterday,” Vance said, his voice now strained. “The receiving parents have him. He is already being transported across state lines.”

“You’re bringing him back,” I said, moving in his direction.

“That isn’t something I can do,” Vance replied, pulling open the door. “Your ex-wife has primary physical custody and signed the surrender papers. The state recognizes the placement. If you attempt to stop it, we can bury you in court orders. We also have the psychological evaluation. We’ll portray you as a violent, unstable veteran trying to take a child from his lawful guardians.”

“He’s my boy!”

“He is a closed transaction now, Mr. Hayes,” Vance said, his expression cold. “The arrangement is complete.”

He went outside and shut the door hard behind him.

I remained in the kitchen as the room seemed to tilt around me. Toby was gone, carried off to strangers. Maya and Liam might be next.

A low, sudden laugh came from Greg’s corner.

I turned. He wiped at the blood on his lip, smiling as he reached into his back pocket and drew out his phone.

“Vance has it right,” Greg said with a sneer. “On paper, you’re dead. Your commanding officer thinks you’re unstable, and the local police already see you as dangerous. I’ve spent three months reporting domestic disturbances, telling them you called here and threatened us.”

He raised the phone so I could see the number pad. The digits 9-1-1 were entered, his thumb poised above the call key.

“You’ve got two options, soldier,” Greg said. “Pick up your bag and leave. Act like you never came back. Or I make the call, the cops arrive, and they find an AWOL lunatic trespassing and attacking the children’s legal guardians.”

His yellowed teeth showed as his grin widened.

“Either way,” he murmured, “you don’t get them.”

I studied Greg’s pleased expression, then Sarah, who wept without trying to stop him. Last, I looked at Maya.

She held Liam close with both arms. She wasn’t cowering now. Her eyes stayed on me, searching to see whether the father she remembered remained somewhere inside the man war had worn down.

I glanced at my combat boots, then lifted my gaze to Greg.

“You’re not wrong,” I said quietly. “There isn’t a safe path for me.”

I moved toward him.

“But you don’t have one either.”

Greg’s thumb remained suspended above the call button as I stepped nearer.