I stared at the page.
“No.”
Detective Harris remained silent.
“My mother is Margaret Parker.”
He nodded.
“That's what your current records indicate.”
“Then why is Eleanor Price listed here?”
“We're investigating whether the document is genuine.”
I couldn't breathe.
Eleanor Price.
The woman in the photograph.
The woman my mother recognized immediately.
The woman who had been held prisoner for who knew how long.
My hands began shaking.
“Are you saying she might be my mother?”
Detective Harris looked at me carefully.
“I'm saying there's a possibility that your family history is different from what you've been told.”
***
I drove to my mother's house in silence.
She was sitting beside the window when I arrived.
The moment she saw my face, she knew.
“Emily?”
I placed the birth registration on the table.
“Who is Eleanor Price?”
Her face turned white.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she whispered:
