Chapter 5 - The Folded Secret
Andrew observed the boy's silence, noting the physical signs of exhaustion and trauma. He reached down, his large, scarred fingers gently tucking a strand of wet brown hair behind Ethan’s ear.
"It's okay," Andrew murmured. "You don't have to talk right now. I'll get you out of the rain."
As Andrew started to stand up, Ethan suddenly looked straight into Andrew’s eyes. The fear in the child's dark eyes was suddenly replaced by a strange, desperate focus.
"Please don’t let them take me back, Mr. Whitman," Ethan begged softly.
Andrew froze instantly, his knee remaining in the wet puddle. His hazel eyes narrowed sharply as he stared at the eight-year-old boy.
"How do you know my name?" Andrew demanded, his voice dropping into a guarded, intense register. He had never seen this child before in his life. His name was known only to the highest echelons of the underworld and high-level law enforcement.
Ethan slowly reached inside the pocket of his soaked denim jacket. His small, shivering fingers fumbled inside the damp fabric for a moment before pulling out a small object.
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"I was told to find you," Ethan whispered.
The boy extended his trembling hand. In his tiny palm lay an old paper photograph. It was yellowed at the edges, worn from water damage, and had been folded repeatedly into a tight, rectangular square to keep it hidden.
