Young triplets vanished in 1981 — 30 years later their mom makes a shocking discovery…

It might not even be Mr. Howard’s Cadillac. It could have belonged to anyone. But I don’t remember anyone else in the neighborhood who had a Cadillac, Evie countered.

We were very close with everyone. We would have known. Maybe it didn’t belong to a local, Walter suggested reasonably.

It could have been a visitor to one of the neighbors. You shouldn’t overthink this, honey. The police examined all our family photos, including this one.

They questioned everyone and followed all leads. If it had been Mr. Howard’s Cadillac, they would have noticed the license plate and confirmed it to us. Evie took a deep breath as Walter urged, accepting another sip of tea from the cup he offered.

The warmth seemed to calm her slightly. You’re right, she said finally. It’s probably nothing.

Walter nodded in relief and closed the photo album. Evie had removed the photo, wanting to keep it close. Together they began gently returning the items to the box, each memento a fragment of the lives their sons had lived and the futures they were meant to have.

After packing everything back into the box, Walter glanced at the ornate clock on the mantle and jumped to his feet. Good Lord, I completely lost track of time. I have my check-up appointment today at 11.50 a.m., and it’s already 11.30. It’s Saturday, and the clinic only opens until 1 p.m. Evie looked up from the photo album, surprised.

I totally forgot to remind you. Dr. Matthews doesn’t like it when patients are late. She quickly helped Walter gather what he needed, his health insurance card, the list of medications he was taking, and the journal where he’d been recording his blood pressure readings.

Within five minutes Walter was ready to leave. Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself? he asked, pausing at the door. I’ll be fine, Evie assured him.

I’ll make some lunch, maybe take a nap this afternoon, and I’ll have dinner ready when you get back. Don’t worry about me. Walter nodded, kissed her cheek, and hurried out to the car.

After he left, Evie went to their bedroom and picked up her phone from the nightstand. There was a text message from Louise Mitchell, an old friend who had worked at the school board for nearly three decades before retiring. Annual school district retiree reunion coming up next month.

Hope to see you and Walter there. We miss you both. Evie sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the message.

Louise would have known Howard Fielding professionally. She might have information about him, though Evie didn’t want to suspect Mr. Howard. He had been such a kind and wonderful teacher, especially good with children.

She couldn’t shake the strange feeling and questions that had settled over her since spotting the Cadillac in the photograph. Impulsively, she tapped Louise’s contact information and called her. Evie! What a wonderful surprise, Louise answered warmly.

Did you get my text about the reunion? I did, yes. Walter and I will try to make it, Evie said. How have you been, Louise? It’s been too long.

They spent several minutes catching up, exchanging news about mutual friends and sharing updates about their health and families. Finally, Evie steered the conversation toward her real reason for calling. Louise, do you remember Mr. Howard Fielding? He taught at Oak Ridge Elementary back in the early 80s.

Howard? Of course I remember him. Such a talented teacher. The children and parents adored him.

Do you know where he is now? Evie asked, trying to sound casual. I remember he moved out of town, but I can’t recall exactly where he went. There was a pause on the line.

Actually, Evie, I think you’ve got it wrong. Howard never continued teaching, at least not in the public school system. He never filed any transfer papers to another district or state.

Evie sat up straighter. He didn’t? But we had a farewell party for him. He told everyone he was moving to teach at another school.

No, that’s not how it happened. Maybe he was just joking when he said that. You know how he was, Louise said.

From what I’ve heard, he moved to a remote area in Texas and started a private charity farm for immigrant children. A farm? Evie repeated, confused. I always thought he moved to a different state to teach.

No, nothing like that, Louise assured her. Wait, someone mentioned the name of his place to me a few months ago. Let me think.

There was silence for a moment. Ah, I remember now. It’s called Howard’s Haven for Hope.

Howard’s Haven for Hope, Evie repeated, committing the name to memory. Why are you suddenly asking about Howard? Louise inquired. Evie hesitated.

I just remembered he had a Cadillac, and I saw a similar Cadillac in an old family picture. Oh, yes, he did have that beautiful Cadillac, Louise confirmed, but he rarely took it out for a drive. He preferred to use his other car for daily travel.

That Cadillac was his pride and joy, more of a showpiece than transportation. Do you remember exactly when Howard left town? Evie asked, her heart beating faster. Louise sighed.

It was so long ago, Evie. I really couldn’t say for certain. After ending the call, Evie immediately went to the computer in the small home office and searched for Howard’s Haven for Hope.

She found a simple website with minimal information. The homepage banner showed smiling young men and boys working on a farm. Most appeared to be of Spanish or Mexican heritage with dark hair and tanned skin.

She browsed through the gallery photos, but nothing looked unusual or suspicious. In fact, the images portrayed what seemed to be a positive, nurturing environment. Howard appeared to be doing good work, providing opportunities for immigrant children.

His profile page featured a brief biography mentioning his background as an elementary teacher and his passion for working with children. The farm’s mission statement emphasized education, support, and creating pathways to success for immigrant youth. Evie found the farm’s address and an e-mail contact, but no phone number.

She stared at the screen, contemplating her next move. It might be good to meet with Mr. Howard again to see what he was doing now. Perhaps she could show him the picture and ask if the Cadillac was his.

Checking the clock, 11.45 a.m., Evie realized she could still make it to the address today. It was only a ninety-minute drive. If she left soon, she could reach the farm by early afternoon, with plenty of daylight remaining.

She picked up her phone and called Walter at the clinic. Walter, how’s your appointment going? I’m still in the waiting room, he replied. Everything okay? Yes, but I found some interesting information, Evie explained what Louise had told her about Howard’s farm.

I’d like to go there today, Walter. Would you come with me? There was a pause. I don’t know, Evie.

I’m a bit worried about you. You seem fixated on this Cadillac coincidence. I’m fine, she assured him.

I don’t want to overthink this or have bad feelings toward Mr. Howard. He was always so kind. The charity farm looks interesting, and it would be nice to catch up with him after all these years.

All right, Walter agreed, but we should call him first, let him know we’re coming. I didn’t find a phone number, just an e-mail address. I’ll send a message, though they might not see it before we arrive.

They agreed to meet at the clinic since it was on the way to the farm. Walter would finish his appointment, and Evie would take the bus to meet him there. I’ll leave right away, Evie said, already reaching for her purse…