Before my mother disappeared, something strange had been happening.
She was constantly arguing with someone on the phone.
“I keep my promises,” she snapped once.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said another time, her voice shaking.
She started locking herself in her bedroom.
One day I peeked through the door.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed crying.
A few days later, the police arrived.
They stood in Linda’s living room looking serious.
“We haven’t located the vehicle,” one officer said.
“What does that mean?” Linda asked nervously.
“It means we’re still looking.”
They asked about family members.
“There’s no one,” Linda said quietly. “Just the girl.”
That was the story I grew up with.
My mother vanished without a trace.
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