My Daughter Disappeared Ten Years Ago—Then I Woke to a Pool Full of Rubber Ducks and a Note That Made Me Scream

spring for ten years.”

The words hung there.

“You came here?” I asked.

Roger nodded once.

“Every spring?”

Another nod.

Mrs. Whitaker opened a cabinet and removed a box of laminated cards.

“Emma adored butterflies,” she said. “A few weeks before she disappeared, she told her class she wanted to become ‘the lady who knows every butterfly.’”

I remembered the continue reading …