Kate smiled. “Anger is a normal reaction to what you and your family have been through. He’s been living away from the family for how long?”

“This is his second year at Texas A &M,” Emma answered.

“That’s a long time,” Kate said. “Maybe anger is his way of separating, of being his own man. But don’t worry. His reluctance to participate won’t affect how Abby and I work with you.”

Emma slowly nodded. “Being his own man. Yes. That makes sense.”

“Okay, then,” Kate said. “What we need now is a family history. What happened when. Before I make any psychological assessments, I think Abby can ask those questions. Then I’ll get your feelings about possibly reuniting with a sister you never knew-that is, if we can find her.”

“Can I ask something first?” Emma was looking at me. “What about the contract?”

I told her I hoped to hear something from Mark soon, then redirected the conversation. I was sure what Mark would tell me, and Emma didn’t need to hear that now. “Emma, can you start with your father? Did you know him?”

“No. I wasn’t even born when he went away. He was a soldier, died in Beirut in late 1983-the marine barracks bombing. His name was Xavier Lopez, and he bought the house we still live in. He left me the house along with a small trust to cover the taxes and insurance. My mother was so angry that he’d given her nothing, she made sure Scott, Luke and Shannon only had her last name, O’Meara, on their birth certificates. They don’t know who their fathers are-but that’s another issue, maybe for another time.”

Hmm, I thought. More missing information.

“Scott is half black, we think,” Emma said, “but as you can see, I’m half Hispanic, and Luke and Shannon are white through and through. Shannon looks a lot like Mom.”

“Don’t say that.” Shannon said this loud enough to send Diva scurrying off her lap and out of the room. “I’m not her.”

Kate jotted something on her pad while Emma said, “I’m sorry. You’re nothing like her on the inside, Shannon. Nothing. She was selfish and mean and a drunken idiot.”

“An alcoholic?” I asked, writing for the first time in my own notebook.

“Raging,” Emma said. “A binger. She’d leave us alone for days at a time, then come back and sleep for hours and hours.”

“How long had this been going on?” I asked.

“As far back as I can remember, but before the baby was bom-the one who’s gone-she cut back on the booze. But she still left us alone quite a bit, probably because she was working more. She kept saying how expensive kids were.”

“Did you ever see this child? Or did your mother come home from the hospital empty-handed?” I asked.

“She never went to any hospital. I helped her birth the baby at home.” Emma looked down at her hands, her long brown fingers intertwined tightly.

I tried to hide my shock. “She had her at home? How old were you?”

“About eight, I think. She had the baby in the bathtub. But the next day when I returned from school, she and the baby were gone. She’d left Shannon and Luke with the neighbor lady who had a home day care-they were just babies themselves. Mom came back that night-alone.”

“Alone?” I said. “But-”

“I didn’t ask any questions, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Emma said. “I knew better.”

“Knew better?” Kate said. “Help me understand what you mean.”

Emma didn’t make eye contact with Kate or me. “I could tell she was super drunk-probably to dull the pain from the baby coming-and when she was like that, well… she did things.”

“Violent things?” Kate asked.

Emma nodded, and Luke squeezed her closer.

“And you… what were you? A third grader? You took care of your sister and brothers while she was gone?” Kate asked.

“I took care of them even when she was around, so it wasn’t that hard.” Emma had regrouped. She was in control of her emotions again.

Kate blinked several times, shook her head. “But you were eight, Emma.”

“I was never really eight.” Her voice was a near whisper. “When you have an alcoholic mother, you’re never a kid and you never really have a mom.”

“How true. If there’s an upside to this, you’ve gained plenty of insight,” Kate said. “I hope we can talk more in the future about these issues-that is, if you want to.”

“That might be good. To talk. You both seem like you might actually care-unlike those television people.”

“We’ll get to them later.” I looked back and forth between Luke and Shannon. “Do either of you remember the baby?”

They both shook their heads no. Not surprising, since they would have been very young at the time.

Kate said, “How do you feel about your baby sister’s disappearance?”

“Sad. I want to meet her,” said Shannon, “Hug her. Find out everything about her.”

“And you, Luke?” Kate asked.

“Same thing. I sure hope she has decent parents. That would mean Mom did something good for once. You get what I’m saying?”

“You mean you hope your sister was adopted,” Kate said. “But we may learn that’s not what happened.”

“You think I don’t know how messed up this world is?” Luke shot back. “What scuzzes people can be?”

“Sorry, Luke. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” Kate’s tone was soothing, sincere.

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.

I focused on Emma. “Did your mother ever talk about what happened to the baby?”

Emma rested her hand on Luke’s knee and settled back against the sofa cushions. “When she sobered up about a month later, she had a story. She figured I hadn’t forgotten, even though I never said anything. She told me that Child Protective Services came once I’d left for school the morning after the baby was born. See, Luke had marks on his legs-from the switch Mom used to hit us with. She told me someone notified CPS.”

“Who might have called them?” I asked.

“I didn’t ask questions. Maybe the day care lady in the neighborhood. Anyway, Mom said that when the caseworker heard the baby crying, the worker took Mom and the baby to Chimney Rock Center-where the CPS headquarters are. She and the caseworker made a deal. If Mom gave up the baby and no more reports came in about abuse, they’d close the file on Luke’s bruises.”

“And the child was never returned to the family?” I said. “You three were never interviewed?”

They nodded.

Right then I knew this whole CPS story Emma had been fed was nothing more than a corral full of bullshit. This was not how CPS did things. All the children would have been taken to Chimney Rock, and Emma would have been interviewed. But then, this story was from childhood recollections. She may have forgotten facts or not been told the whole truth. Emma’s mother, Christine O’Meara, could have simply given up her baby for adoption.

“You never mentioned this baby again?” I asked Emma.

“My mother told me that if I even hinted about her to anyone, CPS would take us all away. I’d be separated from Scott, Luke and Shannon. So I kept my mouth shut. And this may sound awful, but for a while, I thought I’d dreamed the whole thing.”

Kate said, “Children often protect themselves from emotional trauma by blocking out events.”

“But I felt terrible for forgetting.” Emma bit her lip, looked down. “I had a CPS caseworker of my own when I turned thirteen, and she helped me understand that Mom probably sold the baby. Turns out there was no previous file on any of us. Luke’s bruises had never been reported. It seemed too late to do anything after five years, and with Mom gone-”

“She’d left again?” I asked.

“Right. That’s why CPS took custody of us. I tried to hold things together at home for more than a month when she split that last time, but Shannon missed a week of school with the chicken pox, and I missed the same week to take care of her. The truant officer came, quickly followed by CPS. Mrs. Henderson, my caseworker, was awesome, though. She got a placement for all of us in the same foster home, and that lasted about three years.”