ed quietly
“It was sent to me,” Margaret replied.
“This morning.” Pierce leaned closer, studying the image.
His expression changed. Confusion. Then disbelief. Then something darker.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. Margaret’s stomach tightened.
“Why?” He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he flipped the photo over again, staring at the words. They were never gone. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Because,” he said slowly, “we found something… back in 1981.”
Margaret’s heart skipped.
“You told me there were no clues,” she said.
Pierce looked at her. And for the first time in thirty years— He looked guilty.
“We didn’t tell you everything.” Margaret felt the room tilt.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
Pierce exhaled heavily.
“Three days after your children disappeared… we found a second set of tire tracks. Not near your house… but farther down Cedar Lane.”
Margaret leaned forward. “And?”
“They didn’t match the van your neighbors described.”
Silence.
“So whose were they?” she whispered.
Pierce’s voice dropped. “We never identified them.” Margaret’s grip tightened around the photograph.
Two vehicles. Two unknowns. Two secrets. H
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