By midnight, our yard was crowded with officers, neighbors, and volunteers carrying flashlights. I answered question after question until I could barely think straight. I spoke to detectives, television crews, and anyone willing to listen.
I kept believing someone would find him.
That he would come walking up the driveway.
That he would burst through the door and tell me everything was fine.
But the next day came and went.
Bill didn’t come home.
The day after that passed too.
Then another.
And another.
Not fifteen years later, either.
Continue on the next page:
