Cooper Mall

I just had to keep going.

By the 90s, Tanya's days of odd jobs were behind her.

She was a career woman now, selling insurance for MetLife, which brought her to Columbus.

Not just a bigger city, but the city she grew up in.

There was no man in the picture.

And as they grew up, Tanya held on to a private promise, one she whispered every night when the house was finally still.

The fear of getting caught never really disappeared, like a ringing in her ear that simply sat off to the side while real life demanded her attention.

And no one questioned the woman she presented to the world, because she gave them no reason to.

Her past was invisible to everyone but herself.

She didn't tell any of her kids the truth.

Not a single friend.

No one.

If you saw her then, you'd never know this woman had been on the run for nearly three decades.

Her kids left home and carved their own lives, and Tanya found new ways to fill her time.

In April 1999, she broke her ankle on the ice outside her office.

Recovery left her restless and up late.

She set up a profile where men could leave her voicemails.

If she was interested, she'd call back.

This is a lot more involved than a swipe left or right.

Daryl McCarter, a long-haul trucker.