Page 41 of Sabre’s Guard

“Noah.” My voice comes out wrong, sounding shocked and indignant. “I’m your mother. My name is on your birth certificate. You know that because I gave you a copy for school when your teacher was talking about them. Remember?”

“He said that’s what you’d say!” His chin is shaking, and he’s tearing up again.

I must be slow because Sabre figures it out before I do.

“Hey. Listen to your mom instead of whoever’s been contacting you on that cell phone in your hand.”

Just like that, all the pieces begin to click into place. Clearly, Dylan found out about Noah and put two and two together, then somehow found Noah’s number.

“This is a complicated situation, bug. We need to sit down and have a conversation about this. I promise you haven’t been abducted by me.”

“You’re lying. Someone sent me a flyer with my name and all my other information on it. It’s even got my birthday.”

Sabre says soothingly, “There is a lot goin’ on here, Noah. I know you’re smart for your age. I’m sure Sergeant Rock has something to say about gettin’ all the facts straight before you make a decision.”

“Let us see what has you so upset,” I tell him gently.

Noah looks at me for a long moment. Then he holds out the phone. “Don’t touch it. Just read.”

Sabre and I lean forward and stare at the screen. Sure enough, it’s an image of a poster.

It looks real too, laid out exactly like the real ones Noah and I have seen around town every so often. The heading says NOAH HALE. MISSING SINCE BIRTH in capital letters across the top.

Where the photo should be, there’s just a black silhouette of a boy with a question mark inside it because whoever made this doesn’t have a picture of him. Under that, there is a paragraph that reads:

Age 9. Abducted and concealed by his mother, Linsey Hale, formerly of Billings, Montana. Mother falsely reported a miscarriage. The biological father and extended family have been searching for him for years. If you have information regarding this child, contact the tip line below or the local PD’s missing-person helpline.

There’s an eight-hundred number printed right below.

“This can’t be real,” I mumble, shocked beyond belief.

“It’s not,” Sabre says firmly.

Noah pulls the phone back and looks intently at the image. “How can you tell?”

Sabre reaches out and uses two fingers to enlarge the image. “See that case number under your name? It’s only four digits. There is no such thing as a four-digit case number. They’re all alphanumeric these days and at least eight digits long.”

Sabre’s hand comes out again. He hooks one finger over the top of Noah’s phone and pulls it down so they can both see the screen again. He uses that finger to slide the screen to the side. “Look closely at that shield-shaped logo in the top right-hand corner. See how it looks blurrier than the rest of the page? That’s what happens when someone grabs an image and it doesn’t match the resolution of the document. It’s a sign of fraud.”

Noah’s mouth drops open. “You’re right about both those things.”

Just when I think he’s about to calm down, he bursts into tears. “Why would my dad lie to me like this?”

“Someone claiming to be your father contacted you?” The question slips out, even though it’s perfectly obvious that’s exactly what happened.

“Yeah,” he says, trying to snuff back his tears. “He messaged me on that Civil War history forum you let me join.”

I close my eyes and count to ten.

Meanwhile, Sabre moves us to the sofa and encourages Noah to give more details.

Noah’s breath hitches as he talks. “He said he was my dad and my name should be Everett, not Hale. I didn’t believe him at first, but he knew things like Mom’s birthday and where she grew up and what she did for a living. He said that information was verification that what he was saying was true.”

Sabre interjects, “Verification is information you cross-check with another source.”

“When I told him that I still didn’t believe him and this was stranger-danger stuff, he sent screenshots of all these people praying for someone to bring this child home. They said a mother’s got no right to steal a son from his father. There were so many of them, all saying this wasn’t God’s plan.”

He gazes at me intently. “He says he got sent to prison because you lied, but he’s not holding a grudge because that’s not godly.”