While I was on vacation with my cousins, my phone lit up with one message: “Get on a plane home. Don’t tell your parents you’re coming.” When I landed, an attorney and two investigators

explain by text. Your ticket is at the counter. Use your passport. Go now, Claire. Please.

That was the part that made my stomach twist. Aunt Rebecca never used the word please unless someone had died.

By sunset, I was sitting on a flight to Seattle, my wet swimsuit shoved into my carry-on while my cousins called after me from the curb, telling me to continue reading …