that she had so carefully drawn. Her pulse raced and she grabbed onto the doorframe for support. "I-I can explain."
"Can you? I was looking for a piece of paper. Instead I found this ." He waved the paper at her. "And a complete account of what happened that night on the back."
She took an unsteady step forward. "Philip, I—"
"You what? You forgot to tell me? You forgot to tell the police that you saw the bastard that took our son? What the hell's wrong with you?"
"You don't understand," she stammered. "He was going to kill me."
"You? What about Sam? I can't believe you were more concerned about your—"
"He had a gun, Philip! And he hurt me. That's why my ribs were bruised. I couldn't move." Her voice grew hoarse. "And then he said he'd kill Sam if I told anyone I'd seen him. Or if I described him. I didn't know what to do!"
"You should have told the truth."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Don't you dare lecture me on truth, you…you ass."
"You lied, Sadie. You said you didn't see anyone." He shook the drawing at her. "This is the man who took our son. The police have been running around, chasing their tails for almost two weeks, and all along you had this. His face, for Christ's sake!"
"He said he'd send Sam home in pieces!" she screamed.
Philip stared at her as if she were the monster. Then he shook his head and without a word, disappeared into the hall, the drawing in his hand.
A door slammed downstairs and she flinched.
"What have I done?" she cried out in anguish.
12
The following morning, Sadie's whole world came crashing down around her. Her deception made headline news. Every channel broadcasted reports of how the mother of the latest abducted child had known all along what The Fog had looked like. Every newspaper across the country carried her drawing. Reporters were scathing in their contempt of a mother who would conceal such a vital lead. Even the police looked at her differently.
Except Jay.
"You're a victim in all this too," he told her.
Terrified, she had holed up inside the house, refusing to answer the door. Every time the phone rang, she winced, especially when she saw Matthew Bornyk's number. She couldn't face him now.
When Philip packed his bags and moved into a hotel, she knew that nothing would ever be the same. Her life was a train wreck and there were no survivors.
Later that morning, Leah showed up in the kitchen. She had let herself in through the garage when no one answered the door.
Sadie took one look at her friend's watery eyes and broke down. "He's going to kill my baby, Leah. Sam is so scared, I can feel him. And there's nothing I can do to comfort him."
Leah hugged her tightly. "Jesus, Sadie. I'm so sorry."
"It's my fault."
"No, it isn't. You did what you thought was right."
Sadie shook her head. "Maybe if I had told the police what The Fog looked like someone would've recognized him."
"And maybe he would've done what he said he'd do," Leah argued. "Listen. No one can blame you. You were given an ultimatum, right?"
Sadie met her gaze. "Would you have kept quiet?"
"I honestly don't know what I would've done if I was in your position. Maybe I would've told the police and hoped they'd keep it out of the papers. I mean, no one else saw him. You saw his face. That's a pretty important piece of information."
Sadie backed away. "You don't think I thought of that?"
"I know—"
"You don't know anything. You don't know what it's like to love a child, to be a mother, to hold life in your hands and watch it grow into something beautiful. You don't know what it's like to watch a monster rip away your son, knowing you might never see your baby again. Not a single day goes by that I don't blame myself, wonder if I should have said something, done something."
Leah held out her hands. "Sadie, you—"
"No! You can't judge me. No one can. You weren't there. I want my son alive. Don't any of you get that? I'd rather Sam be alive and living with that—that monster ,
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