Nothing matters except the words in my hand, the photograph, the girl looking back at me from the glossy paper. The thought that Gabriel might have hidden something from me. What?
The ever-present pain in my lower back flares up even more as I turn the photo over again, searching the teenage girl’s face. No one can tell me this isn’t her. I’m her mother; I would recognize her anywhere.
And her moss-green eyes.
Those eyes are unmistakable. They look straight into mine, almost reaching through the photograph, as if trying to tell me something. There’s sadness there, but also something I can’t quite read.
All I know is that they’re not the same as I remember. The fire that once burned behind them is gone, their usual defiance nowhere to be seen.
I did my best to be a good mother, to protect my daughter from the pain of this world. But maybe I went a little too far. Gabriel used to think I was too strict, that I might suffocate Sadie by holding on too tight and making too many rules.
Sadie felt the same way, and we argued all the time, especially when she hit puberty. My little girl suddenly became hostile and rejected everything I suggested.
Looks like instead of protecting her, I might have pushed her away.
Oh God. What if these words are true? What if my daughter is not dead, after all?
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to steady myself. My vision blurs even more, dark spots appearing behind my eyelids.
It can’t be real. It can’t. It’s been six months.
There was a massive search, but she was never found at sea. And now this?
And what does it have to do with Gabriel? The thought lands like another blow to the sternum.
I remain on the floor, unmoving, coffee soaking into fabric and skin, time passing by without me being aware of it.
Suddenly, adrenaline rushes through me, and I scramble to my feet too fast. The room sways, then steadies enough for me to walk straight.
I grab my handbag and pull out my phone to dial Gabriel. He answers on the second ring.
Gabriel and I didn’t drive up together because he had a court case he had to wrap up. And it’s just as well because the silence between us when we are in the same car these days is so thick and cold. Losing Sadie did not only break our hearts, it left a crack in the foundation of our marriage.
“Hey. Already there?”
As soon as I hear his deep voice, tears fill my eyes. I can’t speak. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Judy? Are you there? Are you crying, sweetheart?”
“She’s alive,” I whisper, my voice shaking and my pulse drumming in my ears. “Gabriel, I got a photo. Someone sent it. A photo of her.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Sadie’s alive,” I hiss.
The pause on the other end lasts so long I think he might have dropped the phone.
Then, softly, “Judy…what do you mean?”
“I was sorting the mail.” I force myself to keep breathing as Coco returns to me, pressing her nose to my leg in an attempt to comfort me. “There was an envelope with a photo inside. The girl looks like Sadie.”
“That’s not possible,” he says. “Sadie—we know—” His voice breaks on the last word.
“But there’s writing on the back,” I cut him off. “It says she’s alive. And that if we want to keep it that way, we shouldn’t go to the police.”
“That can’t be true.” Gabriel’s voice is tight. “You know this has to be some kind of joke, right?”
“Who would do that?” I snap, picking Coco up. “Who would play a joke like this?”
