Dave Krupa

So I called the sheriff and said, I'm pretty sure I found her truck.

He had, all right.

It was Carrie's SUV.

The black one she'd brought in for him to fix when the two locked eyes for the first time.

The one Carrie's mom had reported stolen when she made the missing person report.

Somehow, everyone who'd been looking for Carrie had missed her Ford Explorer.

Covered by snow, as it was, bought a Watame County Sheriff's Office sergeant, Jim Doty.

They did a thorough investigation.

That fingerprint was found in a mint container in the cup holder of the SUV.

They ran the prints through the National Database.

They didn't get a hit, though.

Then, as winter turned to spring, in April, now five months after the craziness with Carrie began, there was a sudden bit of hope.

It started with another text by Carrie to Dave.

She texted me saying, you know, she had nowhere to go, she's homeless, she has no money, she's downtown at a shelter.

Can somebody please, oh, can you call my mom and tell her I'm here?

and come get me.

And I didn't respond for quite a while, an hour or two, I think, because I thought, this is more crap.

Finally, I thought, well, if I don't respond, then what kind of person am I?

You know, maybe she's finally ready to come in.

And, you know, I don't want to be the reason something bad happens.