The biker slowly turned toward his mother.

“You know him?”

Margaret stared at the officer like she had forgotten how to breathe.

The sergeant removed his hat.

His hands were trembling now.

“You worked at St. Joseph’s Hospital.”

Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.

“Thirty-two years ago.”

The biker looked between them.

“What’s going on?”

The officer swallowed hard.

“My mother told me a waitress found me outside that hospital when I was a newborn.”

Margaret covered her mouth.

The biker went completely still.

The officer stepped closer.

“She said the woman who found me left one thing in my blanket.”

He reached beneath his uniform collar and pulled out a small silver pendant.

Margaret made a broken sound.

The biker stared at it.

He had the exact same pendant around his own neck.

“No,” he whispered.

Margaret’s knees weakened.

The biker caught her before she fell.

The officer looked at him, then at the matching pendants.

His voice cracked.

“What does this mean?”

Margaret began crying.

“I had twins.”

Both men froze.

She looked at the officer.

“They told me one of my babies died.”

The biker’s face drained of color.

Margaret reached toward the sergeant with a trembling hand.

“But I never saw his body.”

The officer stared at the brother standing beside him.

And the mother he had just humiliated whispered,

“I think I’ve been serving coffee to my missing son for years.”