The Women Who Walked Away

Becky Vance believed the world was full of dangers for her son, Talon. She would go to the ends of the earth to protect him, even if that meant leaving everything behind.

- Elizabeth Weil

Before they disappeared into the mountains before they broke the foremost rule of womanhood: Keep the children alive— Becky and Christine Vance lived together in Colorado Springs in the Windmill Apartments, a modest complex with a heated outdoor pool that looks like a large Days Inn. From the parking lot, you can see Pikes Peak rising from the plains like a mirage or a matador’s cape. The Vance sisters, as adults, did not go camping, nor had they ever climbed Pikes, though they had taken Becky’s son to the North Pole, an amusement park on its northeastern slope where you could ride the Candy Cane roller coaster and visit Santa’s Workshop.

The Vance sisters had lived together their entire lives except during two stints, each lasting less than a year, when one of them tried to move out. Becky was born in 1980, Christine in 1982, but Christine’s friends (Becky didn’t have friends) considered their relationship to be like that of twins. “You know with twins how there’s one that’s kind of more in charge?” one of those friends said. “Becky kind of seemed, like, more alpha.” Both sisters inherited their mother’s thick black hair, almond skin, and dark eyes, though Becky was leaner and taller, and she felt a peculiar, almost gladiatorial duty to protect her sister. This started, as far as anybody could tell, when Becky was 5 and Christine was 3 and their mother abruptly left their father, taking her children with her.