“He did this to you,” I said.

My voice did not sound like my own.

Sarah pulled her sunglasses back over her face, hiding the scar once more.

“He did,” she said.

Marisol quieted her steps as she approached the booth.

She sat down next to me, her notebook already open in her hand.

“Sarah,” Marisol said, keeping her voice low. “Thank you for meeting us.”

Sarah did not look at Marisol; her eyes remained locked on me.

“I saw your name in the local legal filings,” Sarah said. “My brother still works in the county clerk’s office.”

She tapped the thick manila folder with her index finger.

“When he told me Derek was being sued for divorce and domestic assault, I knew I had to find you,” she said.

The waitress brought a fresh mug of coffee and set it down for Marisol.

None of us touched our drinks.

The air in the diner smelled of burnt toast and old grease.

“Tell us what happened twelve years ago,” Marisol said.

Sarah took a slow breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her dark coat.