“The vehicle was upside down. The doors should have been locked by impact.”
“Then how—”
“We never knew.”
The room became silent.
Mark looked at the memory card.
“Maybe now we find out.”
We connected the card to an old computer.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then one file appeared.
A video.
Created twenty years ago.
The date was three days after the accident.
My hands covered my mouth.
Teresa was alive.
The screen flickered.
A young girl appeared.
My daughter.
Older than the last photo I had of her.
But unmistakably Teresa.
She looked terrified.
She was sitting in a dark room.
Her voice was shaking.
“Mom…”
I collapsed into the chair.
“Mom, if you’re watching this…”
She looked behind her.
Like she was afraid someone would hear.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I tried to get back.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Because the next sentence destroyed everything I believed for twenty years.
“I didn’t disappear because of the accident.”
A pause.
“I disappeared because someone wanted everyone to believe I was dead.”
The video continued.
Then Teresa whispered a name.
A name that made Mark stand up immediately.
Because he recognized it.
And I did too.
It was someone who had attended her funeral.
Someone who had cried beside me.
Someone who had helped me search.
Someone who had looked me in the eyes for twenty years…
while knowing my daughter was still alive.
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