The officer spoke first.
“Miss Davis,” he said gently, “this is Detective Miller. She’s been investigating a cold case for several years. A missing persons case. Your case.”
Hannah’s stomach lurched. “My case?”
Detective Miller stood up. “Hannah, I’m so sorry to spring this on you. But we’ve recently confirmed something we’ve suspected for a long time. The woman you think is your mother—your adopted mother—has been hiding a very important truth from you.”
The room started to spin.
“Hannah, you were reported missing when you were two years old. There was a custody dispute. Your birth mother—your real mother—never stopped looking for you. She passed away two years ago, but before she died, she started a foundation to help other families in similar situations.”
The detective paused. She handed Hannah the photograph.
In the picture was a young woman with Hannah’s exact face. Same eyes. Same chin. Same bright smile.
