The others somewhere in between—close enough in age that our house constantly sounded like dropped toys, crying, and someone yelling they couldn’t find a shoe.
At first, I didn’t panic.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Then an hour.
I called Natalie repeatedly until eventually her phone stopped ringing altogether.
That was when I noticed the closet.
Half empty.
The suitcase gone.
Her favorite dresses gone.