That name meant nothing to me.
But somehow I knew she was important.
I eventually contacted her.
Two hours later, I was sitting across from an eighty-one-year-old woman while she pushed an old photograph across the table.
Dos niños estaban de pie uno al lado del otro.
“Which one is Jack?” I asked.
She touched the taller boy.
“And the other?”
“Daniel.”
“Who is Daniel?”
La Sra. Bennett me miró.
“Jack’s brother.”
La miré.
“Jack didn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, he did.”
“No. Creció creyendo que no tenía familia”.
“Because he didn’t know.”
I looked down at the photograph again.
The resemblance between the two boys was obvious now that I knew to look for it.
“How?”
“They entered care after their parents’ accident. Different placements. Mistakes in the records.”
She sighed.
“Eventualmente, perdieron la pista el uno del otro”.
“And Jack only discovered this last year?”
