When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
“Did he tell you the name?”
“Evelyn.”
“Did he tell you where she lived?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you her last name?”
“No.”
“Did you tell any social worker about Evelyn before?”
Oliver shrugged.
