Ten days.
Casey’s been gone
for ten days and I haven’t slept. I keep reliving the stress of Sandra’s
disappearance. Not knowing where she is or what’s happened to her. I dream
about finding my little girl’s body in pieces and I wake up crying.
James hasn’t left
my side except to go to work where he talks to prisoners and guards – tries to
find anyone who can give any insight onto who might have taken her.
She’s a strong
girl. Emotionally, of course, but physically as well. She’s tall and she’s
strong and normally I would fear for whoever thought they could hurt her but it’s
been ten days and there’s still no word.
Police are out
looking but they don’t really believe we’ll find her. Detective Sloan – the charming
woman assigned to my case – has told me in no uncertain terms that she thinks
Casey either ran away on her own or is already dead. But she doesn’t know my
little girl, and if she did, she would be asking different questions.
I’m worried about
what they’ll find if they look into her past. She has no history – no medical
records or social insurance number – nothing real anyways. We gave her the same
information we gave her school and we’re praying they care more about her
future than her past.
They went and
combed the forest outside the city over the weekend which was a whole new
adventure. Of course, James and I went with them. It was like walking through a
minefield of our own creation. Sure, we vaguely knew where the bodies were
buried but we could never be certain. Thankfully, there was only one sniffer
dog because, as I said, Detective Sloan believes Casey left of her own accord.
As if she would
hurt her family this way.
Jason leaving was
different.
But no, it has not
escaped my notice that I have now lost all three of my children. But I will get
Casey back. She is my second chance and I will not lose her.
There was nothing
at the house we hadn’t already found. Keeping the police from searching every
nook and cranny while still letting them do their job was a terrible balancing
act. But even after they left, we found nothing: no blood we couldn’t account
for, no missing items or any explanation.
Sloan confirmed
that the blood on the door handle and in the living room was Casey’s blood type
but it wasn’t enough to suggest what injuries she might have. The detective
thinks the struggle and blood were staged but I know my daughter would never
put us through that.
She was happy with
us, she was safe. She wouldn’t leave on her own. Someone took her and I want to
know who.
I feel alone.
I have my husband –
my one constant – but other than that…
I’ve barely made
friends at the bank, my neighbours were isolated and judgmental before COVID,
my best friend was murdered by my now missing daughter, and I can’t talk to my
parents. Not about any of this.
I haven’t spoken
to my sister in two years. Not since Jason’s trial which seems like a lifetime
ago. Honestly, she might be the only one who can help me right now.
There are few
people I trust in this world. In fact, there’s only one, and my sister is not
them. But I love her. And she understands this world I exist in: this dichotomy
of light and dark. Her skill with technology is admittedly better than mine.
God, I hope she
can help me.
As always, dear
readers,
Stay Safe
No comments:
Post a Comment