“Ernesto found these pictures among your father’s effects. Then he began to delve deeper, finding inconsistencies about his grandfather’s emigration to America. He thought the worst…which is a terrible shame because I spoke to someone who might have had contact with your dad when your father was a boy—when they both were boys actually. I showed him the most recent picture you gave me—the one of you, your father, and your two sons. He didn’t recognize your father. Instead, he thought that your son, Karl, resembled a man he had met in his youth.”

“Karl looked like my dad.” Carter was excited. “It’s true. Everyone thought they looked alike. Who is this man?”

“He’s one of the handful of men who survived Treblinka.”

“So my father was in the camp?”

“I don’t think so. I am telling you about a young boy of around sixteen—a Pole, not a Jew. This was around 1943, right before Treblinka was burned down by the Nazis. This young boy, the son of a Polish policeman, used to sneak into the outside perimeter of the camp and go right up to the electrified gates. He used to take pictures of the inmates: some were living, some were dead. I don’t know why he took the pictures. But I do know that by taking the pictures, the boy risked his own life. He was not a member of the SS, and if he had been caught, he would have been shot. Plus, the boy gave the inmates food—ersatz bread, bits of carrots and turnips and potatoes…once even strawberries. All food was a luxury. At that time, food was very scarce, not only for the inmates but for all of Poland. So what he did was very, very generous. It’s possible that this boy was your father.”

Carter’s breathing was audible and shallow. He whispered, “What was this boy’s name?”

“I don’t know. Neither did the man I spoke to.”

“So who is Isaac Golding?”

“I have no idea. Ernesto had information stating that Yitzchak Golding had died in Treblinka. But I don’t know where that information came from.”

“If my father didn’t do anything, why take on that name?”

“Maybe he didn’t, but maybe his parents did because they needed the name of dead people to escape the tribunals and get false passports. I’m not saying that happened, but who knows? Or maybe your father took on the name because it was the name of a concentration-camp inmate who made an impression on him. Maybe he did it to honor him. Perhaps you can find out. There are many records and lists. You know Yitzchak Golding was sent to Treblinka. If you search hard enough, maybe you’ll find the history of Yitzchak Golding somewhere. It depends how far you want to take this.”