I let out a long breath, only at that moment realising that I had been holding my breath at all. The baby adjusted her weight inside me, kicking me as she moved. I placed my palm on the bump, barely registering the movement.
“What happened next?” I asked.
“My colleagues at the station ran through a list of missing persons in the area but the boy didn’t match anyone in the system. Then they took a DNA sample.” Stevenson paused and ran his hands along his jeans. He’d been called in, I realised. He wasn’t in the smart suit I remembered from that horrible week when we searched for Aiden. “Do you remember that we put Aiden’s DNA on file after his disappearance?”
“Yes,” I replied. I had scraped up as much of his hair as I could, and sent in items of clothing with dried blood on them for the police to use. Aiden was always scraping his knees or picking at a scab, and I had never been particularly good at keeping on top of the washing.
“The boy was clearly distressed. He wouldn’t speak to any of my colleagues at the station, so they brought him to the hospital. A DNA test was run yesterday and the analysis came back a few hours ago. The teenage boy in that room is Aiden.”
I unclenched my fists, let out a shallow breath, then clenched my hands again. How could this be happening? How? A tingling sensation spread over my body, from my scalp to the bottom of my feet.
“Are you all right, Ms Price? Can I get you anything?”
I vaguely heard Jake’s reply. “It’s Mrs Price-Hewitt now. We’re married.”
“I apologise. Emma, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall behind me. My thoughts swam with Stevenson’s words. DNA. Teenage boy. Rough Valley Forest. Was it all real?
I realised Stevenson had been right to take me aside and explain all this to me. I needed to compose myself if I was going to step into that room and face Aiden for the first time in ten years. I declared you dead.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m fine. This is all quite a shock, as you can imagine. Can I see him now? I need to see him.”
“I’ll check with the doctor.” Stevenson offered a taut smile and rose to his feet.
“It can’t be true,” Jake said after Stevenson had left the room. “It’s been ten years. Where has he been? I bet the police have bungled something. They’ll have got the DNA test wrong or something.”
“What if they haven’t?” I said. “What if it really is him? Jake, I’ll have my son back.”
Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, love. I’d hate for you to be heartbroken all over again. Remember how long it took you to deal with Aiden’s death?”
“I know,” I said. And the truth was that my heart was still closed. I hadn’t even realised it. I’d thought I was so open and raw, but I wasn’t. I was closed up and shrivelled inside.
I rose to my feet when the doctor came to speak to us, and found myself dwarfed by his height. But the man’s kind face and open eyes helped to relieve some of the tension that had built up in my chest.
“Mrs Price-Hewitt, my name is Dr Schaffer. I am the head of the paediatric ward here at St. Michael’s. There are a few things I want to mention before you go in to see your son. I’ve been briefed by DCI Stevenson here so I understand the delicate nature of this situation. Your son, Aiden, has been through some trauma. He is currently still in shock from whatever that trauma is, and for that reason we have not completed a full examination. We’re trying to space out each procedure to keep him calm and happy. But right now, we can say that he is healthy. He is smaller than most sixteen-year-olds, and we will need to look into that. He has remained mute since his arrival, but he does understand what we are saying, and he is happy watching cartoons or children’s television shows. But please don’t feel disheartened if he doesn’t react when you first see him.”
The blood drained from my face. What if he didn’t recognise me? I reached out for Jake’s hand and he clasped it with his own.
“Thank you, Dr Schaffer,” I said with an unsteady voice.
The doctor smiled and led the way down the corridor. I followed with shaky steps, trying desperately to walk with my back straight and tall, keeping one hand on my pregnant stomach, attempting to soothe my unborn child and soothe myself at the same time. My heart worked double time, pumping and pounding like a dribbled basketball. The hospital walls closed in on me as claustrophobia seeped into my veins, constricting my chest so that I had to remind myself to take deep breaths. I gripped Jake’s fingers so hard that it must have caused him pain, but he didn’t flinch or complain.
And then we reached the room. The doctor paused and waited for me to nod. He opened the door. In that most mundane of actions, I had one of those moments, the kind you remember for a lifetime, the kind that slow down and leave a permanent imprint on your mind.
5