Then she crossed to the entry directory.
Twenty apartments.
One name hit her like a slap:
Apartment 14 — R. Salinas.
R. Salinas.
He’d changed his last name.
Rachel typed the address into her phone with shaking hands.
She walked away, sat on a bench in a nearby park, trying to process what she’d just seen.
Michael was alive.
He’d been living in the same city, less than 20 kilometers from where she’d searched desperately for years.
He looked her in the eyes… and showed no recognition.
Possibilities spun:
Amnesia?
But why change his name?
A deliberate new identity?
A second family?
Rachel felt nauseous.
She pulled out her phone and called Ethan.
“Mom, are you okay?”
She realized she was crying.
“Ethan… I need you to come. I saw him. I saw your father. He’s alive.”
Ethan arrived in Del Valle in 40 minutes—normally a much longer trip—blowing through lights in a borrowed car.
He found Rachel still on the park bench, staring at the building.
She looked pale, shaking despite the heat.
“Mom… are you sure?”
Rachel turned to him, eyes red.
“It’s your father. I’d recognize him anywhere. His gestures. His walk. His voice. It’s him.”
Ethan stared at the building.
“What do we do?”
He opened social media.