“I thought someday we’d get out and I’d explain everything.”
But there had been no someday for Colby.
Search teams found his remains fifty yards from the abandoned shelter.
DNA confirmed his identity.
Unlike Corbin, there were no signs of blunt-force trauma on the skeleton.
No evidence he had been shot.
No restraints.
The medical conclusion was almost worse because of how ordinary it sounded.
Extreme exhaustion.
Dehydration.
Hypothermia.
After eight years of captivity, Colby had finally escaped.
He simply no longer possessed the physical strength to reach civilization.
He died alone beneath the roots of a fallen pine.
The news destroyed both families.
For ten years they had lived inside uncertainty.
Hope had been cruel, but it was still hope.
Now Corbin’s parents had bones to bury.
So did Colby’s.
Travis’s parents had their son back.
And that became its own painful kind of guilt.
When Travis’s mother first visited him after the discoveries, he could barely look at her.
She sat beside his hospital bed.
“Travis.”
He stared at his hands.
“Why me?”
She did not answer.
“Why did I come back?”
