“Not knowing what?”
“Anything.”
Joan’s voice trembled.
“I didn’t know if my family thought I had abandoned them. I didn’t know if my parents were still alive. I didn’t know who had married or had children. I didn’t know whether people were still searching.”
She paused.
“I didn’t even know what year it was anymore.”
Greg stared down at the defense table.
Joan looked at him then.
For the first time.
“He told himself he was giving me peace.”
Greg’s head lifted.
Joan’s expression hardened.
“You didn’t give me peace.”
Her voice remained quiet.
“You gave me silence.”
The distinction settled over the room.
Greg’s defense attorneys had tried to argue that his distorted ideas about companionship reflected severe psychological problems.
Court-appointed specialists disagreed.
Whatever fantasies Greg used to justify his actions, he understood perfectly well that kidnapping was illegal.
He had planned carefully.
Prepared the cabin.
Selected hidden roads.
Used alternate license plates.
Returned to Joan’s truck to manipulate the scene.
Maintained secrecy for nine years.
