My heart was pounding as I stared at my daughter’s empty bed in her room. A week ago, my beautiful thirteen-year-old daughter, Amber, had disappeared from view. She was freckled and had blonde hair. It was the hardest thing I had ever experienced as a father. Without her, every moment felt endless and every second was a misery I could not escape. I hoped that she would come back to me when she called or knocked on the door as the days dragged by slowly.

Amber was not the type to run for it. I realize that’s what all parents say, but it’s true. I had a deep and personal connection to Amber. She was a contented and well-mannered child who always gave me pride. That she would just turn around and leave without saying anything was unimaginable. As each day passed without her appearing, my concern grew more intense and began to claw at my heart. I was certain that she had experienced a horrific incident.

The Sack
The cops had a role to play, even though it seemed pointless. Their pathetic shrugs and pleading looks did nothing to ease my pain, even if they insisted they were doing everything in their power. I was desperate, alone, and totally lost.

I was crying outside one evening, desperate and frustrated, when I noticed a homeless woman nearby, going through a nearby dumpster. Upon seeing what she had flung over her shoulder, my heart stopped. Amber’s backpack! I knew it was hers because I could recognize the unicorn patch she had sewn on herself.