Page 71 of The Other Mother
Holt lays out three file folders like she's dealing cards. Each one represents a different future, a different way our story could end.
"Option one: Witness protection. You and Eva disappear forever with new identities. But without your testimony, the case against the upper levels of the network collapses. Dozens of other children remain with traffickers. Eva grows up never knowing the truth about where she came from."
I lift Eva into my lap, and she immediately settles against my chest, her breathing syncing with mine the way it has since she was hours old. The idea of her never knowing about Mara, never understanding that her birth mother died trying to save her, feels like another kind of theft.
"Option two: You testify and risk everything. You become the star witness in a federal case. Eva's identity becomes public, making you both permanent targets. If the case fails, you have no protection from retaliation. And Eva ... 1" Holt pauses. "Eva could be killed to prevent your testimony."
The words hit me like physical blows. Eva makes a soft cooing sound and reaches up to touch my face. She has no idea that powerful people see her as a threat to be eliminated.
"Option three: You return Eva to legitimate channels. Foster care, legal adoption through proper procedures. Then you testify without Eva as a target. But Eva losesthe only mother she's ever known, and you lose the child you've raised for eight months."
The thought of handing Eva to strangers scares me to death. But I force myself to consider it. Would it be better for her to grow up safe with another family than dead because of my choices?
Eva starts fussing, sensing my distress. I begin humming a lullaby and she relaxes immediately.
I remember Mara's letter, the words I've read so many times they're carved into my memory: "Eva is safe with you, and that gives me peace. Don't let them win.”
Mara didn’t know the details but she knew what had happened to her child. The same cannot be said about my own.
Agent Holt's phone rings, and she steps into the kitchen to answer it. I can hear her voice through the thin walls, urgent and surprised. When she returns, she's carrying another file folder and a photograph.
"We found the third baby from your original investigation," she says, sitting back down. "The one in the blue striped blanket from the nurse's notes."
The photograph she hands me shows a toddler with dark curls and familiar brown eyes, maybe two years old, playing in what looks like an expensive playground. She's wearing a pink dress that probably costs more than I used to make in a week, and she's laughing at something outside the frame.
"Her name is Emilia Bucher," Holt says. "She's not just the missing third baby. She's Maria's actualbiological daughter. The one Maria thought was trafficked overseas."
The revelation hits me like cold water. Maria, who I watched break down as she learned the child she'd been fighting for wasn't even related to her, has a daughter who's alive and well and living with a wealthy family in Switzerland.
"They paid five hundred thousand dollars for her," Holt continues. "They believe she was legally adopted through international channels. They have no idea she was stolen. They're innocent in this."
I stare at the photograph, at this little girl who has Maria's eyes and her smile. Somewhere in California, Maria is grieving a daughter who isn't dead, just unreachable. Somewhere in Switzerland, a family is raising a child who was stolen from her mother's arms.
"If you testify," Holt says quietly, "we can recover Emilia and reunite her with Maria. Your testimony is the key to the international warrants we need. Without it, she stays missing forever.”
The weightof it settles on my chest like a stone. This isn't just about Eva anymore. It's about Emilia, about the forty-seven other recovered children, about mothers who are still searching and about preventing this from happening to other families. But what about the families who have adopted them? The families whoreally didn’t know that the babies were kidnapped? Mothers like me?
Eva stirs in my arms, making the soft sounds she makes when she's dreaming. I wonder what babies dream about. Warm milk and familiar voices? The safety of being held by someone who loves them unconditionally?
I think about Mara, poor and terrified, holding Eva for those precious few minutes before the nurses took her away. Did she imagine Eva growing up loved and safe? Did she picture her daughter learning to walk, to talk, to laugh at silly games?
I think about Maria, who lost her friend and thought she'd lost her goddaughter too, only to discover that her real daughter is growing up calling someone else mama.
I think about the families in Switzerland and Singapore and God knows where else, raising children they believe they adopted legally, not knowing those children have mothers who never stopped looking for them.
"I'll testify," I say, the words coming out stronger than I feel. "But I want Eva in witness protection during the trial, and I want her to know the truth about Mara when she's old enough to understand."
Agent Holt nods. "The grand jury convenes next week. Are you ready to bring down everyone involved?"
I look down at Eva, who's waking up from her nap with the slow, stretching movements of someone who feels completely safe in my arms. She blinks up at mewith those dark eyes that are so much like Mara's, and I see trust there. Complete, unwavering trust that I will protect her no matter what.
"Mara died trying to save these children," I say. "Eva deserves to know her birth mother was a hero. And Emilia and all of those other kids deserve to come home to their real families."
Eva points at the window, where camera lights from the news vans create a glow against the evening sky.
I hold her tighter, thinking about Mara's final wish, about Maria's grief, about all the mothers who are still searching for their stolen children.
"Yes, baby girl," I whisper against her soft hair. "We're going to bring everything into the light."
