Hannah holding her piano books.
Hannah wearing her favorite blue sweater.
Hannah wearing those little silver star earrings.
For months, we lived on hope.
Then months became years.
Theories came and went.
Someone said she had been kidnapped.
Another person believed she had run away.
There were rumors about human trafficking.
Another theory suggested she’d wandered away and suffered some kind of memory loss.
Every possibility was investigated.
Every lead was followed.
Every tip was checked.
And every time, we ended up with nothing.
No body.
No confirmed sighting.
No phone call.
No ransom demand.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Hannah had simply vanished.
After several years, the police told us the investigation had gone cold.
I refused to accept it.
“We need to keep looking,” I told Rick.
He would always give me the same answer.
“We’re destroying ourselves.”
