She stood in her father’s driveway clutching a stuffed rabbit while I backed my car away.
Claire had died only months earlier.
I waved.
Amelia didn’t wave back.
She simply watched.
At the time, I assumed she was a devastated child trying to understand why her mother was never coming home.
I believed I would see her again soon.
The following weekend.
Maybe the weekend after.
I had no idea that would be the last time I saw her for twenty-three years.
I looked at Robert.
“You found her.”
He nodded.
“I found her.”
“How?”
“I was searching through old records online. I was trying to track down some things connected to Claire, and Amelia’s name appeared. I sent her a message.”
“When?”
Robert hesitated.
My chest tightened.
“When, Robert?”
“About six weeks ago.”
Six weeks.
My husband had known where my sister’s daughter was for six weeks.
