Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT DRIVER
The name of the driver was Ethan Shaw.
Detective Price found it in an old emergency dispatch record. Fourteen months earlier, a rideshare driver had called for help after discovering a damaged vehicle near the river road. He had reported a woman trapped in the passenger seat and a second car blocking the shoulder. Before emergency services arrived, the caller had been assaulted and taken to hospital with a head injury.
The report had been marked as an unrelated traffic incident.
Naomi read the file twice.
“Someone separated the two events,” she told Andrew. “The crash report was handled by the county. The driver's assault was recorded under a different incident number.”
“Was he questioned?”
“Briefly. He said he saw a woman being taken away by two people. He couldn't identify them. After he was discharged, he left the state.”
“Can you find him?”
“We're trying.”
Laura listened from her hospital bed. Her hands had begun to tremble.
“He was the one who opened my door,” she said. “I remember his voice. He told me to stay awake.”
“Do you remember anything else?” Naomi asked.
Laura closed her eyes.
“There was a silver ring on his right hand. A black stone. He kept saying he had a daughter waiting at home.”
Naomi made a note.
Andrew sat beside Laura. “You don't have to force yourself to remember.”
“I want to remember. If he was hurt because he helped me, I need to know.”
Naomi left the room to make another call. Andrew lowered his voice.
“You should rest.”
Laura looked at him. “I have been resting in rooms where I wasn't allowed to leave. I don't want to spend another day doing nothing.”
He understood, and the guilt in his expression made her reach for his hand.
“I'm not angry with you for believing I was gone,” she said. “I'm angry that someone used your grief to make me disappear.”
Andrew nodded.
“I'll make sure the foundation never gives them another dollar.”
“Make sure the families still receive their treatment money. Don't punish the people who were supposed to benefit.”
“I won't.”
Sophie sat at the small table by the window, coloring a picture of the three of them. She had drawn Laura with long yellow hair, Andrew with a blue tie, and herself holding both their hands.
“Daddy,” she said, “can we go to Grandma's after Mommy comes home?”
Andrew smiled. “If your mother feels well enough.”
Laura nodded. “I would like that.”
The next afternoon, Naomi received a call from a clinic in Ohio. A man named Ethan Shaw had recently updated his contact details. He had been living under his own name, working as a mechanic, and had refused several requests to speak to investigators about the old assault.
Naomi asked whether he would agree to a private interview.
He said yes, but only if Laura was safe.
When Naomi told Andrew, he asked to go with her.
“You can attend,” she said. “But let me ask the questions.”
They traveled to Ohio the following morning. Laura was not well enough to join them, and Sophie stayed with Margaret and a trusted nurse. Andrew promised to call before bedtime.
Ethan lived above a small repair shop. He was in his late thirties, broad-shouldered, and walked with a slight limp. A black stone ring sat on his right hand.
When he saw Andrew, he went pale.
“Is she alive?”
Andrew nodded.
“She is. She's at the hospital.”
Ethan sat down heavily.
“Thank God.”
Naomi placed the old incident report on the table.
“Mr. Shaw, we need to know what you saw that night.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“I was driving home after a late shift. I saw a car down the embankment. A woman was in the passenger seat, barely conscious. I called emergency services and climbed down to help.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“A black SUV pulled up. Two men got out. One said they were family and that they would take her to a private hospital.”
“Did you believe them?”
“No. The woman grabbed my sleeve and said, ‘Please don't let them take me.’ I told the men to wait for the ambulance.”
“What happened?”
“One of them hit me from behind. I woke up in the hospital. The police said I had been in a fight. When I told them about the woman, they said there was no missing person matching the description.”
Andrew's hands curled.
“Did you see their faces?”
“One was wearing a baseball cap. The other had a scar along his jaw. I remembered the SUV's plate, but the officer who took my statement wrote down the wrong number.”
Naomi looked up.
“Do you still have the number?”
Ethan stood and went to a cabinet. He returned with a small notebook.
“I wrote it down before I went to the hospital. I thought I was losing my mind, so I kept the page.”
He handed it to Naomi.
For a moment, Ethan seemed unsure whether to let go of the notebook. It had been the only proof he possessed that his memory was real. Naomi assured him that the original would be returned after the evidence had been copied and verified. She also gave him a direct number to call if anyone approached him.
The number matched a vehicle registered to Crossbridge Advisory.
Andrew stared at the page.
“Why didn't you keep pushing?”
Ethan looked at him without anger.
“My daughter was seven when it happened,” he continued. “She used to wait up for me after late shifts. After the assault, I couldn't sleep properly. I kept checking the locks and looking out the window. When the calls started, I thought the safest thing was to move before anyone could reach her.”
“Did they ever approach her?” Naomi asked.
“No. I don't think they intended to. They only needed me to believe they could.”
Andrew understood the fear in that sentence. It was the same weapon Vivian had used against Laura and later against Sophie. The threat did not need to be carried out to control someone. It only needed to feel possible.
“I'm sorry your daughter had to live with that,” Andrew said.
Ethan shrugged, but his eyes were wet. “She's grown now. She knows why we moved. I told her the truth last year.”
“Was she angry?”
“She was. Then she asked why I hadn't trusted her enough to tell her. I didn't have a good answer.”
Naomi closed her notebook. “Your statement will help us make sure the people responsible are held accountable. We'll also arrange protection while the case is active.”
Ethan nodded. “I don't need anything special. I just don't want them near my family.”
“They won't be,” Naomi said.
“I had a daughter. I was told I would be charged with assault if I kept making accusations. Someone called my shop and said they knew which school she attended. I moved away. I told myself I was protecting her.”
Andrew lowered his eyes.
“I understand.”
Ethan shook his head. “You don't have to. Just make sure Laura doesn't get taken again.”
Naomi photographed the notebook and asked Ethan to give a formal statement. He agreed.
Before they left, Ethan opened a drawer and removed a small memory card.
“I had a dash camera. It was damaged in the crash, but I saved the card. I never gave it to the police because I was afraid they'd lose it.”
Naomi took it carefully.
“What's on it?”
“Maybe nothing. The camera was pointed toward the road. It might have caught the SUV.”
Back in the car, Naomi called the forensic unit. She asked them to meet her at the station and process the card.
Back in the car, Naomi called the forensic unit. She asked them to meet her at the station and process the card.
Andrew looked out at the highway.
“Laura was telling the truth from the beginning.”
“Yes,” Naomi said. “But now we have a witness who can place the Crossbridge vehicle at the scene.”
His phone rang. Margaret's name appeared.
“Andrew,” she said, “Sophie is asking for her mother. She wants to know whether Laura will be home for dinner.”
He closed his eyes.
“Tell her we're coming back. I'll call when we're close.”
There was a pause.
“And Andrew?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Don't let what happened turn you into someone who only knows how to be afraid.”
He looked at the road.
“I'll try.”
When they returned to the hospital, Laura was awake. Andrew told her about Ethan and the notebook. She listened with tears in her eyes.
“He helped me,” she whispered. “He believed me when I couldn't explain anything.”
“He kept the evidence.”
Laura looked at him.
“Then we owe him a thank-you.”
Sophie climbed onto the bed and placed her drawing on Laura's blanket.
“I made you a house,” she said. “It has three bedrooms. One for me, one for Daddy, and one for you.”
Laura kissed her forehead.
“That's a beautiful house.”
“And the doors aren't locked.”
May you like
Laura held her close.
“No, sweetheart. They aren't.”
