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

text them when I landed. I didn’t tell my parents. I almost did six different times. My thumb hovered over my mother’s contact until the plane rose above the clouds and the signal disappeared.

When I landed, I expected to see Aunt Rebecca.

Instead, two men and one woman stood near baggage claim, holding a paper sign with my full name.

CLAIRE ELLISON.

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