My neighbor kept insisting she spotted my daughter at home during school hours. To be sure, I pretended to leave for work—then hid beneath the bed. Minutes later, I heard more than one set of footsteps crossing the hallway.

By 2:00 a.m., staring at the ceiling fan slicing through the shadows, I knew I couldn’t live in the dark anymore. I had to know the truth, even if it broke my heart.

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