The Match

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At the age of somewhere between forty and forty-two — he didn’t know exactly how old he was — Wilde finally found his father.

Wilde had never met his father. Or his mother. Or any family member. He didn’t know their names or where he was born or when or how he, as a very young child, ended up living alone in the woods of the Ramapo Mountains, fending for himself. Now, more than three decades after being “rescued” as a little boy — “ABANDONED AND FERAL!” one headline had put it; “A MODERN-DAY MOWGLI!” shouted another — Wilde sat no more than twenty yards from a blood relative and the elusive answers to his mysterious origin.

His father’s name, he had recently learned, was Daniel Carter. Carter was sixty-one years old and married to a woman named Sofia. They had three grown daughters — Wilde’s half sisters, he assumed — Cheri, Alena, and Rosa. Carter lived in a four-bedroom ranch on Sundew Avenue in Henderson, Nevada. He worked as a residential general contractor for his own company, DC Dream House Construction.

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