Five years after my daughter Noa disappeared, a knock at my door startled me from my grief. There stood a girl with a basket of cookies, looking eerily like Noa would have now. Her name was Lizzi, and as she spoke about living nearby with her mom, I was struck by how much she resembled my daughter.I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Lizzi’s story. After visiting her mother, Claire, I discovered that Lizzi’s late father, James,
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