My daughter vanished after a fishing trip with her father—one year later, what I discovered inside his tackle box made me go completely still.

to fish.

I knew which socks bothered Sophie’s toes. I knew she still liked being tucked in.

But Saturdays belonged to Mark.

I knew she still liked being tucked in.

***

That morning, Sophie tightened her ponytail while Denise and I drank coffee.

“Sure you don’t want to come shopping with us?” I asked.

“No way,” she said. “Dad and I have to catch a monster.continue reading …