Husband abandoned his disabled wife in the forest, unaware that a mysterious man was watching everything
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”
“Less apologetic.”
That landed deeper than she expected. Her throat tightened. “I used to apologize for taking up space, for needing help. Now I still need help, but I stopped apologizing for it.”
Chris nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
She took a slow breath. “You said earlier we’d call the police. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Chris leaned forward slightly. “You think they won’t believe you?”
“I think Michael’s good at pretending. He’s charming. He’s a lawyer. He’ll spin it into something else—say I wandered off or had a breakdown. And I don’t have proof.”
“You don’t need proof to start a report. You just need to speak up.”
Emma stared at him. “Do you believe me?”
“I wouldn’t have carried you half a mile through mud and thorns if I didn’t.”
Her chest tightened. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be believed instantly, without suspicion, without “are you sure?” or “maybe you misunderstood.”
“But you’re right about one thing,” Chris continued. “He’s going to lie. He’ll move fast to get ahead of whatever version you tell. So, we need to be smart and quick.”
“We?”
“I’m not letting this go.”
She looked at him for a long time. “Why? Why are you helping me like this? It’s been over a decade.”
Chris’s jaw flexed. “Because I know what it looks like when someone loses themselves under someone else’s control. I’ve seen it before. I’ve lived it, kind of.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the room grew quieter anyway.
“Besides,” he added, “you were the only person who ever stood up for me in high school. Remember that day with my old man in the parking lot?”
“I do,” she said quietly. “I was scared out of my mind, but you looked like you were going to vanish. You kept me anchored.”
He said, “I didn’t forget that.”
She felt warmth rise in her throat—not from the fire, but from something older, familiar.
They sat for a while without speaking. Eventually, she picked up a cracker and bit into it, more to keep her hands busy than from hunger.
Chris checked his watch. “You want to call someone? A lawyer? Your sister, maybe?”
“I don’t have one, and I haven’t talked to my brother in years.”
He nodded. “Then start with the truth. Tell me what happened between you and Michael after the accident.”
She hesitated. “Everything changed after that day. I got hit on a highway just outside Pueblo. Crushed from the waist down. They rebuilt what they could, but—”
Chris didn’t look away. No pity, just focus.
“Michael was there in the beginning. Supportive. But little by little, he took control of everything—my passwords, my medical stuff, my business finances. He said it was just while I healed, but it never stopped. He decided what I wore, who could visit, what I could post online. It was like… like being in a very polite prison. And now, I guess he wanted a clean exit.”
Chris’s voice was low. “It wasn’t just an exit. He meant for you to disappear.”
Emma gripped the mug tighter. “I think so, too.”
“We’ll prove it,” Chris said. “But first, you rest. Tomorrow, we dig.”
She nodded slowly, her body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. Her nerves had been frayed all day. There was nothing left but smoke.
As he helped her to the spare room—wide doorway, low bed already prepped—she paused at the threshold. “This place is accessible,” she said. “You planned it that way?”
Chris’s face shadowed. “After I left the force, they weren’t sure if I’d walk again, so I planned for all outcomes.”
Emma stared at him. “But you recovered.”
“I did.” He looked at her then. “And now you will, too.”..
