Chapter 9 - The Signature I Recognized
The first signature had been copied.
The second was mine.
Nora spread the documents across her conference table.
“This one?”
“Yes.”
“And this?”
“Yes.”
The page beneath my name was an authorization to release school records.
Attached behind it was a different form Rebecca claimed I had approved.
A broad consent for evaluation and temporary residential care.
I remembered signing four pages.
Rebecca’s packet now had eleven.
Nora called the school.
The principal, Mrs. Alvarez, agreed to meet us that afternoon.
She looked pale when we showed her the copies.
“This isn’t what we sent home.”
She pulled up the original packet.
Field trip permission.
Emergency contacts.
Reading intervention consent.
Media release.
Four pages.
The footer numbers matched the pages I remembered.
The additional sheets had no school footer.
“They were added afterward,” Nora said.
Mrs. Alvarez folded her hands.
“Rebecca met with our counselor last month.”
My stomach dropped.
“About what?”
“She said you were considering an out-of-state placement.”
“And nobody called me?”
“She provided emails that appeared to be from you.”
The room went quiet.
“Show me.”
The address was almost mine.
One extra letter.
A small change.
Easy to miss.
Enough to impersonate a father.
Mrs. Alvarez covered her mouth.
“I’m so sorry.”
Nora asked her to preserve everything.
Every message.
Every attachment.
Every note from every meeting.
The principal nodded.
Then she opened a locked drawer.
“There’s something Emily left with the counselor.”
She slid a drawing across the desk.
A house.
Three people outside.
One tall figure in a dark suit.
One woman with yellow hair.
One small girl beside a blue rectangle.
Above the girl, written in crooked letters, were the words:
DADDY DOESN’T KNOW YET.
I couldn’t look away.
“She asked whether children can choose to live with their grandmother,” Mrs. Alvarez said.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Three weeks.
My daughter had been searching for another adult while I was choosing wedding music.
Nora gathered the papers carefully.
At the door, the counselor caught up with us.
“There’s one more thing.”
She handed me an envelope.
“Emily said to give this to you if she disappeared.”
Inside was a birthday card from Hannah.
May you like
Across the front, in Emily’s handwriting, were five words.
PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO FIND ME.
