MY SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER DISAPPEARED FROM A CROWDED BEACH WITHOUT HER PHONE, HER SANDALS, OR A SINGLE EXPLANATION.

EIGHT YEARS LATER, THE FIRST REAL CLUE I FOUND WASN’T A POLICE CALL OR A MESSAGE.

IT WAS A FADED TURQUOISE COVER-UP WORN BY A STRANGER.

And the moment I saw the crooked yellow sun stitched into the hem, I knew exactly who it had once belonged to.