“Go on,” Raymond said, his voice tight and raspy.

“He left a brass key ring in my travel bag when he left town,” I said.

“He told me he never knew his father, only that his mother died in Spokane when he was a baby.”

Raymond lifted his left hand off the sheet, his fingers shaking as he reached toward the crib.

“Look at the baby’s chin,” I whispered, lifting Theodore so Raymond could see his face in the afternoon light.

“Theodore has the exact same cleft as Brandon, and Brandon has yours.”