Chapter 1 - There’s Another Boy
Matthew Reid hit the greenhouse door with his shoulder so hard the rusty latch snapped.
The metal frame screamed.
The door flew inward.
Heat rolled out like breath from an oven.
For one terrible second, Matthew could not see through the fogged glass, dead tomato vines, hanging dust, and white afternoon glare trapped inside the old rural Missouri greenhouse.
Then he saw his son.
Tyler was collapsing between the planting tables.
Thirteen years old.
Bare legs streaked with soil.
Oversized sage-green shirt soaked through with sweat.
Blond hair plastered to his forehead.
One empty plastic water bottle lay beside his shoe.
His knees buckled.
Matthew lunged across the narrow dirt aisle and caught him under both arms before he hit the ground.
“Tyler!”
The boy made a broken sound.
Not relief.
Not fully.
Fear.
His trembling hands clutched Matthew’s charcoal-gray overshirt like he thought his father might vanish if he loosened his grip.
His cracked lips shook.
“They said you gave me away.”
The words punched the air out of Matthew’s chest.
“No,” Matthew whispered. “No, no, no. I came for you.”
Behind them, Lauren rushed through the doorway.
Her cream top was still clean.
Her green pleated skirt moved sharply around her knees.
Her face looked furious before it looked afraid.
“Matthew, stop. You don’t understand.”
She grabbed Tyler’s shoulder.
Tyler recoiled so violently Matthew felt it through his whole body.
Matthew tore Lauren’s hand away.
He pivoted between her and the boy.
Lauren reached again.
Matthew shoved her once, hard, with an open palm to her upper shoulder.
She staggered backward into the doorframe but stayed standing.
“He needed discipline!” she snapped.
Matthew wrapped one arm tighter around Tyler and kicked the broken latch away from Lauren’s reach.
His voice dropped into something colder than shouting.
“Don’t touch my son.”
For the first time, Lauren looked at him like she had miscalculated.
Tyler was shaking against his side.
Then the boy’s eyes shifted past Matthew’s shoulder.
A faint whimper came from beneath the long wooden planting table.
Tyler’s grip tightened.
His hand lifted slowly, pointing into the shadow under the boards.
“Dad,” he whispered. “There’s another boy.”
Matthew turned.
Beneath the table, curled against a sack of potting soil, was a child.
Seven, maybe.
Dirty striped shirt.
Tan trousers.
Bright-red sneakers.
Curly blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
His knees were pressed to his chest.
Around his thin wrist was a small numbered band.
Matthew stared.
The world narrowed to the boy’s frightened eyes.
Lauren reached for her phone.
Matthew saw the movement.
She froze.
He placed Tyler carefully behind his body and took one slow step toward the child under the table.
His rage emptied into something worse.
Horror.
“Lauren,” he said quietly, “who is that child?”
Lauren’s face collapsed.
Not into guilt.
Into panic.
The hidden boy stared at Matthew like he had forgotten adults could open doors.
Tyler clung to the back of his father’s shirt.
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And Matthew finally understood that he had not broken into a greenhouse to save his son from punishment.
He had broken into something much larger.
