Chapter 3 - A Face in an Old Photograph
Captain Voss cut the radio volume, but it was too late.
"Everyone heard that," Grant said.
She ordered the nearest officer to contact county dispatch. He stared at Voss before reaching for his handset. At Greywater, people had learned to ask permission with their eyes.
Solomon Briggs stepped out of the kneeling line.
"I know that boy," he said.
"Back on your knees, Briggs."
"I know his father, too."
Owen looked at him properly for the first time. The old man's hands shook. His face was lined and tired, but his eyes were clear.
"You played checkers with my dad?" Owen asked.
Sol's mouth worked before any words came. "Your father fixed the broken fans on D Block. He brought you to family day two summers ago. You wore a baseball cap two sizes too big."
Owen remembered a hot courtyard, a paper plate of watermelon, his dad laughing with an old man who knew every trick in the checkers book. He remembered being told that people were more than the worst thing they'd ever done.
"You know where he is?" Owen asked.
Voss seized Sol's arm. "Medical evaluation. Now."
"Don't put him in the north wing," Sol said to Grant. "If they tell you he's dead, ask to see a body."
The cafeteria seemed to inhale.
Marcus approached, slowly this time. "Sol, leave it alone."
"You don't get to tell me that."
Sol leaned toward Owen before two guards dragged him away. "Your dad made copies, son. They couldn't find all of them."
Owen started forward, but Grant caught his shoulder. "Stay with me."
"My father isn't dead," Owen said. It wasn't a question.
A guard rushed through the rear doors holding a yellow sheet of paper. His voice shook as he addressed Voss.
"Captain, the intake desk says the kid doesn't exist. There's no booking record."
May you like
Voss looked toward the ceiling camera.
"Then make one," she said.
