The nurse’s warning whispered in my ear still haunted me: “Ask your son what happened at 3:00 AM.” Moments later, I eavesdropped on his panicked phone call on the fire escape: “If the police find out, we’re ruined.” My hands shook as I unlocked his briefcase in his office. The horrific adoption contract inside changed everything…

the slick suburban streets.

“She lives at the end of a cul-de-sac in Oakridge,” Daniel muttered, more to himself than to us. “It’s isolated. Woods in the back.”

“Did she text anything else?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Nothing. Her phone is off.”

We finally turned into a quiet, heavily wooded neighborhood. The houses were spaced far apart, large and imposing.continue reading …