When the phone rang, I'd just set down my fork.
"Is there news about the kid?" my mom blurted out the second I answered.
"How'd you guess?"
I marveled at my parents' knack for insight. It was like they had known every move I made.
"What else could have you so worked up?" Her voice weighed heavy with concern. "As long as we can find the kid, we'll do whatever it takes."
I let out a weary sigh, feeling downcast, "It was a dead end. The place was empty. Hazel had stashed the kid somewhere, and now the trail's gone cold again."
"Darling, as long as we know he's alive, there's hope, and that's good news. We’ll find him and bring him home." My mother comforted.
My voice cracked, "It's all my fault that I lost him."
"That's nonsense. It was a twist of fate, nothing more."
"Mom, I know what he looks like now." My tone lifted with a hint of excitement, "He's a beautiful baby, looks a bit like Monique and Probert. I’ll show you his picture."
As I finished, I remembered the old cell phone.
"Ronan, where's the phone? Still in the living room?"
He nodded, his face lit up with joy, "There are loads of pictures of the kid on it. Go have a look."
At his words, I sprang from my seat, hardly able to wait, and dashed into the living room.
I snatched the phone from the coffee table and powered it on.
There was that beautiful baby, smiling at me.
I quickly opened the photo gallery. Indeed, it was filled with hundreds of snapshots of the child, from infancy to six months ago.
The last photo was dated around Christmas, and he was dressed all in red, just like a holiday card, perched on a little stool eating a cookie, his big eyes staring at the camera without a hint of laughter, his cheeks and lips smeared with cookie crumbs.
My vision blurred. My boy had had his first cookie.
It was a reflection of the diet of the woman who took care of him.
I had no idea who took the photo, but it was clear he wasn't happy, and his little expression was all serious and stiff.
I scrolled through, feeling more pained with each image.
There were a few videos too, of him taking his first steps, and every time he fell or plopped down, a pair of hands would lift him back up.
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