LINDEN
It was Willow's wedding today and I should be with her, but I was looking for my daughter.
I might not see her again.
That thought, so eerie, crept through my mind as I got into the car with the officers in charge of Andrea's case. I could picture how my daughter would look. She could be staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed, helpless. She could be singing one of those nursery rhymes she leant when she was two years old. She could be cursing me. Even her mother could be cursing me.
Today was her funeral. Today was the day she died.
She must be mocking me right now. I told her I couldn't love her. I told her I would only love Andrea. Now see who lost that child.
The man who was suspected to have taken Andrea was a meat seller. Each stop we made at the market had turned up the sam
