“Unfortunately, I do far too much business with omegas wanting to track down children they were forced to give up. Thank stars there are decrees now, to prevent it from happening.”
“Yes,” Zinn said flatly. “The law has improved these past five years. It’s just too bad those decrees weren’t in place to protect Zeller.”
Zinn tried not to let his disappointment overwhelm him. He’d been elated when Dawson took his case. He’d scrimped and saved for months to hire the investigator, who had a reputation as one of the best in the state. But it had all come to nothing. Another dead end.
Zinn reached into his backpack and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table. “Your fee.”
Dawson pushed it back at him. “No. I don’t feel right taking the money, considering I wasn’t able to get the information you were after.”
“But your time?”
“It’s okay. I have other cases, so I can afford to be generous with hardworking omegas who are doing their best to stand on their own two feet. I admire your tenacity.”
Zinn put the envelope back in his bag. He made a decent wage at the bakery, but not enough that he could protest the investigator’s kindness.
“Again, I’m grateful for your efforts,” he said. “If by some miracle you turn something up, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“Your dedication is commendable.” Dawson steepled his fingers together. “But if I may…”
“Of course.”
“My husband and I adopted our son through an agency. His birth parents were very young and had no intention of being a couple. It’s an open situation, so our boy still communicates with his alpha and omega fathers, as well as his half-siblings. It’s been a win-win for everyone, frankly.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re sure Zeller’s fathers adopted his son out through an agency?”
“Yes, like I said when I hired you, there are three things I’m sure of. Zeller Parkenson had a baby. The baby was born around April 30, nearly eight years ago. And he was adopted out through an agency in Warburton Province, where Zeller’s family lives.”
“Well, this might be cold comfort, but chances are, the boy is in good hands. Agencies are well-regulated and conduct rigorous assessments of their clients. Even if they took a bribe to destroy the records, it’s unlikely they handed the child off to someone unvetted.”
Zinn closed his eyes. Dawson was right. Zeller’s parents had done something monstrous when they gave his baby away, but he doubted they had allowed the child to end up in any sort of disreputable situation.
Keyes and Deveron had believed Zeller would come to accept their decision, that he’d eventually forget about his son.
But they’d underestimated Zeller’s bond with his child, the baby he’d made with an alpha he loved with all his heart. At least for the short time they’d been together.
“I hope you’re right,” Zinn said. “I hope the boy is happy and healthy and living his best life somewhere amazing. But until I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I’ll never be able to rest.”
“It’s one of my policies to never ask clients what they’re going to do with the information I gather. I don’t want to know if I find evidence that leads to a divorce or someone blackmailing their neighbors. That’s why I’ve hesitated to ask if you planned to potentially disrupt a happy family.”
Slowly, Zinn shook his head. “No. But I need to know for sure that the boy is okay. I want to see what he looks like. What he likes to do. If he likes sports. Or has a pet. Does he enjoy school?”I want to see if he has his alpha father’s eyes.“Zeller deserves those answers. He can’t really live without them.”
“I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t help,” Dawson said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
***
Zinn arrived at Felton’s Bakeryten minutes before his shift, slipping into the staff restroom without alerting anyone to his presence.
Standing at the sink, he examined his reflection in the mirror. He’d cried for half an hour after leaving Dawson’s office. His continued inability to find information about his son was a bitter pill.
No. Not his son. Zeller’s son, he reminded himself. As strange as it was to think of himself in the third person, he wasn’t thatman anymore. Zeller didn’t exist. The only part of him Zinn still carried was his pain.
After splashing cold water on his face and replacing the flesh-colored patch covering the prominent mole on the apple of his left cheek, he ran his fingers through his hair. Honey-brown roots peeked back at him. He definitely needed to touch it up this weekend.
With no mole and darker hair, he no longer looked like the scared omega who’d caught a train out of Warburton on his twenty-fifth birthday. Gone were the skinny calves and soft physique. He’d never been overly fragile, but months of kneading dough and carrying fifty-pound bags of flour had given him new bulk and definition.
When Zinn stepped onto the platform in Bellwether Province two years ago, he’d sworn never to go back. But he was stronger now, and more focused. With Dawson’s failure to produce information, perhaps the only solution was to return and face his parents. Maybe the years had softened them, given them a chance to reconsider.