Sarah sipped her strong, black coffee and stared out of the kitchen window at the mizzle shrouding the garden. She hadn’t slept well, the black crows nesting in the large fir trees, waking her from her dark, fitful dreams in the early hours with their hoarse coos, caws, rattles and clicks. She’d always been suspicious of crows ever since her grandmother had told her that they were bringers of bad luck and death, shooing them away from her small cottage garden at every opportunity. A dark despair crept over her, reflecting the greyness of the clouds and the symbolism of the crows. She didn’t notice the police car at first until a slight movement caught her eye. She watched as a tall, black-suited man, followed by a young, immaculately uniformed female police officer, opened the gate and made their way to the front door, their faces serious with the news they were about to deliver. Finally, this must be it, Sarah thought to herself, the moment she had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure for the last five years. She hesitated at the sound of the doorbell, its cheery chime so inappropriate at that moment. Time slowed as she went to open the door, her legs dragging as if she was walking through quicksand.
“Mrs Corrigan?” the man asked.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to remain strong.
“May we come in? We have some important news for you regarding your daughter, Hannah.”
Sarah nodded, pointing the way to the living room and shutting the door behind them.
“Please take a seat,” she said, gesturing towards the chairs and sofa, going through the motions, “and just tell me”.
“Hannah’s been found,” the man said.
Before he could say anything more, Sarah crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the pent-up emotions of the last few years released in one go. The young PC gently moved to her side, putting her arm around her shoulders to console her until her sobs subsided, before helping her into a chair and fetching some tissues and a glass of water.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to distress you,” the man continued awkwardly, “but she’s alive, Hannah’s been found alive.”
Sarah stared at the man questioningly, a maze of thoughts going around her head. Alive, that’s not what she had been expecting, not what she was prepared for, but that’s what he’d said, wasn’t it?
The man nodded
“Yes, she’s alive,” he repeated.
Breaking News:
Missing British girls found alive in Chaco Culture National Historical Park five years after disappearance.
Chris read the news headlines flashing boldly across the TV screen, and the colour drained from his face. It’s happened again, he thought to himself, vivid pictures of wandering the ruins, of what he would later learn to be the Peñasco Blanco, formed in front of him, the stone walls of the ancient ruined houses surrounded by sparse, dry, rocky scrub land. The confusion of being lost and not knowing why
“Wow! Isn’t that where they found you?” Julie, his wife, asked, turning to him.
Chris nodded.
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