Ten years after Emma vanished at the pond, I woke to hundreds of rubber ducks covering our pool. The note tied to the biggest promised I could see my daughter again, but the address did not lead to a grave, a kidnapper, or a miracle. It led somewhere worse: back to the child grief erased.
The neighbor’s dog started barking at 6:03.
Not the usual warning bark at a squirrel.
This was frantic.
