Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“We’re getting a hotel.”
“Where are we?”
“About an hour from Kansas City,” he told her. Much like their other stops, Kent pulled into the first hotel he saw and asked for a room. Unfortunately, they didn’t have anything available, and neither did the next three they found. On his fourth try, he secured a room.
“I thought we were driving to New Mexico,” she said when they got to their room. It was a standard room with a stand-up shower and no fancy bathtub.
“That was my intent,” he told her. “But the more I thought about it, the more I questioned whether you would regret your decision. So, here we are. If in the morning, you still want to leave, we will.”
Palmer wanted to leave, but what Kent said made sense. If they drove too far and she wanted to go back, she knew he would, but that would be unfair to him. But she was confident in her decision to leave.
Kent changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and opened his laptop for the first time since they’d started their trip. Palmer sat next to him while he read and returned an email from Dr. Hughes, detailing Palmer’s issues, and asked what to do about her hands. He asked her if she wanted to add anything else, and she said she didn’t.
Next, he typed “Abigail Weaver” into the search bar and waited for the page to load. Palmer expected there to be multiple pages about her, but there was only one, and it had three links. The first was a link to a missing children’s database. It had all her basic information. Her height, weight, and age at the time of disappearance, where her abduction took place, and a horrible age-progression photo.
“I don’t think they cared,” she said.
“I agree. There’s something odd about the whole thing. It’s like they didn’t do a nationwide search, which sort of makes sense, but it doesn’t. I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”
Neither could she, nor would she be able to. Again, she wished she could turn back the clock and give herself more time.
The next link was a website that listed the same information the FBI had posted. It looked like one of those true crime sites, with an amateur sleuth. “Make sure you write to them after I’m gone and let them know my story so they can close their case.”
“Do you really want me to do that?” Kent asked, and Palmer nodded. “Okay, I will.”
The last link was to a profile page on a social media site. Abigail Weaver’s age was listed as thirty-seven, and it didn’t take much for Kent to speculate. “I wonder if this is the daughter of your kidnapper?”
“What on earth makes you say that?”
“She’s the same age as you. What if Sarah kidnapped you to protect her daughter? You could’ve been a means to an end for someone who needed to escape. Maybe she stole your identity.”
Palmer scoffed. “If that’s the case, I hope she’s lived a miserable life because she ruined mine. Besides, wouldn’t the feds look into something like that?”
Kent couldn’t disagree. “I’m just throwing stuff out there. I watch too much TV.”
Palmer rearranged the pillows and lay down. Kent kept the font on the computer large enough for her to see. He scrolled for a bit, switched to a new site, and then checked on her, only to find Palmer with her eyes closed. He couldn’t begin to imagine what went through her mind or how she felt. He felt sick to his stomach at how cruel people could be to one another.
Kent wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “This is so unfair for you.” Life had not treated her fairly, and he vowed to help her forget.
Palmer pulled away and angrily wiped at her tears. Kent wanted to find this Sarah Cousins and ask her why she did what she did. But doing so would have to wait. It would likely take years to even find a clue, unless the person he had found online was actually her.
“I don’t want to know,” she said out of the blue.
“Know what?”
“If that Abigail person is me or whatever. I don’t want to go to my grave knowing someone has been pretending to be me, while I grew up with no one by my side.”
“Okay.” Kent closed his laptop and then lay down beside her. He rolled onto his side and rested his hand on her hip. “Do you feel better knowing your mother loved you?”
She shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s so hard to wrap my head around it. I want to know why no one believed that I was missing and why she didn’t check any references for the babysitter.”
“It sounds like she was a single mom trying to keep food on the table.”