The snow had drifted against the buildings. It fell steadily—it had not been snowing on our way in—and the flakes danced. I pulled my knit cap low and breathed in the cold air. I started walking through the snow. I had half an idea that perhaps, at a window, I’d see Grant staring down at me, waiting for his new mom and dad. Of course not. He was ten months old. But the chicken pox had passed, and I was going to get to see him healthy now, and I couldn’t wait…

I walked past the main building, toward two smaller buildings—I’m not sure what they were used for—and I saw her. In the shadows. She stepped forward, a figure in a heavy coat. I froze for a moment. Then she gestured to me, and there was something urgent in her wave. My nerves were on edge… There was no one out here but us, and I couldn’t ignore her. I walked toward her.

I knew who this might be: the warning woman.

The day was already cloudy, the sky spitting snow. She didn’t meet me halfway along the snow-covered path but stayed close to the building.

When I got closer to her, I saw half her face covered by a thick scarf. But I also saw it was not the warning woman. She was younger. Her coat was high-end, expensive. Her hat was fur, like you might expect a Russian princess to wear.

“You are American?” she asked. Her accent was heavy.

“Yes.”

“An adopting mother here?”

“Yes.”

“I need help. Please. To get inside.” She pointed toward the main building.

“There’s an entrance at the front,” I said.

“I know, but I cannot go in alone.” She pulled the scarf down, and I saw a shadow of a fading bruise along her delicate jawline. “You could say I was your translator.”

“Why do you need to go in?”

Several seconds passed. “My child was taken from me. And brought here.”

“Taken against your will?”

She blinked at these words, and I tried again: “Did you give up your baby? It’s all right. I understand.”

“I changed my mind. I want my baby back.”

Surely they’d just give it back to her. Surely. I couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t.

“We can go see the woman in charge,” I told her, and she shook her head.

“No. No. They won’t give him back.”