Three weeks after her birthday, Hannah left for piano practice with her sheet music tucked under her arm and those little gold earrings catching the sun.
« Straight home after, okay? » I called from the porch.
« I know, Mom! » She turned and waved, and the earrings flashed once before she rounded the corner.
***
Six o’clock came. Then seven. My friend Denise called to check on our dinner plans, and I told her I’d call her back. Rick paced the living room, checking his phone.
« Straight home after, okay? »
I’d called the piano studio, and Rick had gone to look for her, but they told us she’d left for home after practice.
By eight, I was at the front door in my slippers, staring down our quiet street as the police arrived.
And just like that, the life I knew ended on a Tuesday evening.
The police searched for years.
