The kitchen remained quiet after Becka's final words.
And then March tenth happened.
Lizzy sat staring at the folder between them. The afternoon sun stretched across the table, illuminating the worn edges of the pages her mother had spent years filling with notes. Everything Becka had described—the sleepless nights, the search parties, the untouched bedroom, the casseroles left uneaten, the maps covered in markings—had led to that date. March tenth. The day her parents' nightmare ended. Or at least the day they thought it had ended. Lizzy wrapped both hands around her water glass and looked across the table at her aunt. Part of her was desperate to hear what happened. Another part wasn't sure she could survive it.
Becka lowered her eyes to her coffee. "Your mother woke up on the couch t
