Together with Dad’s confession and the location where the items were recovered, it was enough for investigators to conclude that Abigail had entered the channel that day.
“Crystal, are you certain?”
It was enough to end the active search.
It wasn’t enough to give me back the five years Dad had stolen.
Hunter leaned against the wall.
“No more apologies for things we didn’t do, Crystal.”
I stepped into his arms, and he held me without trying to make the moment smaller.
“No more apologies for things we didn’t do.”
Weeks later, the damaged barrier had been replaced.
Dad’s confession became part of Abigail’s record, and the failed repairs were investigated.
By the end of the week, reporters were asking why complaints about the broken barrier had been ignored.
Before visiting the site, I went to Dad’s grave alone.
“I spent five years protecting you from your guilt,” I said. “You spent those years protecting yourself from my questions.”
I went to Dad’s grave alone.
The ground was still uneven beneath my shoes.
“I would’ve hated you if you’d told me. I might never have forgiven you.”
I swallowed.
“But I would’ve known where to look.”
Hunter waited near the new barrier with a yellow ribbon.
He handed it to me.
“I might never have forgiven you.”
I tied the ribbon beside a small plaque bearing Abigail’s name.
“You don’t have to forgive him,” Hunter said.
“I know.”
“Then why come here?”
“Because Dad made Abigail’s story about his fear. Today, it belongs to her again.”
I touched Abigail’s name.
“Then why come here?”
The plaque sat slightly crooked.
Hunter reached toward it, but I raised my hand.
“I’ve got it.”
I pressed the corner until her name was straight.
Dad had pointed everyone toward the lake, and for five years, we followed his lie.
I raised my hand.
But Abigail wasn’t lost anymore.
She’d been found in the truth he was too afraid to face.
This time, nobody would move her story in the wrong direction again.
