“Dead?” Vance repeated, his voice cracking. “Sarah, it’s me. It’s Vance.”
“Stay away from me!” Sarah cried out, her voice laced with absolute terror. She looked wildly toward the house, as if expecting Mia to come running out. “Greg said you died in the crash! He said you were driving drunk! He said you crashed the truck and left me in the hospital!”
Vance felt the ground tilt beneath his feet. The sick, twisted puzzle was finally snapping into place.
Six years ago, Sarah had gone to the grocery store in a heavy rainstorm and never returned. The police found her car abandoned on the side of a bridge, severely damaged. They assumed she had been thrown into the river. They searched for weeks. Vance had nearly destroyed himself looking for her.
“Sarah,” Vance said, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as humanly possible. He didn't step closer. He just held his hands open. “Look at me. I wasn’t in that car. I was at home, waiting for you. I’ve been looking for you every single day for six years.”
Tears began to spill down Sarah’s hollow cheeks. “Greg told me… I woke up in the hospital in the next county. I couldn’t remember anything. My head… everything was gone. Greg was there. He told me he was my brother. He told me my husband was a violent drunk who caused the crash that took my memory. He said we had to hide because you had dangerous people looking for us.”
Vance felt a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred for Greg Thorne burn through his veins. Thorne had capitalized on a horrific accident. He had taken a vulnerable, amnesiac pregnant woman, isolated her, and fed her a fabricated reality to keep her trapped.
“He’s not your brother, Sarah,” Vance said, his voice breaking. “He’s the man who tried to break into our garage the night before your accident. I hit him with a wrench. He has a crescent scar on his right hand, doesn’t he?”
Sarah gasped, her eyes widening. “How… how do you know about the scar?”
“Because I gave it to him,” Vance said.
Sarah’s hands were shaking violently now. She looked at Vance, really looked at him, searching his rugged face for the monster she had been told about. But she didn't find a monster. She found a man holding back tears, a man who looked at her with nothing but profound, enduring love.
“He told me I couldn't leave the property,” Sarah whispered, the horrifying truth of her captivity finally breaking through the lies. “He said you survived, that you were hunting us. He said if you ever found us, you’d kill me and take Mia.”
Vance slowly rolled up the sleeve of his leather vest. He held out his left wrist, exposing the stick-figure family.
“You drew this,” Vance said softly. “On a napkin at the diner downtown. The day you told me you were pregnant. We walked straight across the street to the parlor and got it done. You got it on your shoulder.”
Sarah reached a trembling hand up to her left shoulder, gripping the fabric of her sweater.
At that moment, the front door of the house squeaked open.
Little Mia stood on the porch, holding her stuffed bunny. She looked at Vance, then at her mother.
“Mommy?” Mia said softly. “Is that the man from the diner?”