“Excuse me?” I finally looked up from the steering wheel. The officer returned my license. “Are you related to that Carolyn girl?”

I wanted to say no, but I didn’t have to say anything. My face said it all.

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

Of course he was. Anguish turned to frustration as I continued my drive. They all were. I kept going, no destination in mind. Why do they all assume Carolyn is dead? She’s only been missing a month and they’d already given up on her. Idiots.

I bit my lip, holding back tears. I remembered a story of a woman whose husband had travelled to Africa for research. She felt a horrible foreboding the exact moment he died, even though she had no way of knowing.

Every time I looked in the mirror I saw Carolyn’s face. We shared the same DNA for gods sake! I knew her better than anyone. Certainly if she was dead, I would know it. Sometimes I had dreams about her. They were fuzzy, and I could only remember bits and pieces. But they gave me hope. She was alive. There was no way she couldn’t be.

I let my thoughts take control, my driving on autopilot. When I finally stopped, I was in an unfamiliar part of town. Still, I had the oddest sense of déjà vu. Fuzzy blurred images from my dreams came flooding back, and I let them lead me, hopping the fence to a rather stylish backyard.

I tiptoed past a pair of sleeping dogs and crossed the patio to the farthest corner of the property. Hidden beneath a large clump of willows, was a small woodshed. My sister was in there. I knew it. But how would I find her? Duct taped to a char? Bleeding on the floor? Horrible images overwhelmed me. Imagination became torture.

I don’t know how long I stood there, in front of the shed. I gathered my courage, and opened the door.