Richard disappeared shortly afterward.
For twenty years, nobody knew what had happened.
Until three months ago, when Richard suddenly appeared at my door.
“Why don’t I remember any of this?” I asked.
The younger Evelyn looked toward the basement entrance.
“Because he told you a different story. He gave you a new identity, a new past, and a new life.”
“Why would he do that?”
Before she could answer, headlights swept across the basement window.
A car had just pulled into the driveway.
Richard was home.
The younger woman grabbed my hand.
“You have to hide. If he finds us together, he’ll destroy the only evidence that can prove what he did.”
She pushed a photograph into my palm.
It showed Richard standing outside a hospital twenty years earlier, holding a newborn baby.
On the back, someone had written:
“Our daughter survived. Her name is Sarah.”
My heart stopped.
