Cemetery Girl

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Let me tell you something about my daughter. My daughter disappeared, and there were times I wondered if she was somehow responsible. Caitlin wasn’t like most kids-she wasn’t immature or childish. She wasn’t ignorant. In fact, she possessed a preternatural understanding of how the world worked, how humans worked. And she used that knowledge to deceive me more than once, which is why sometimes-I am ashamed to admit-I questioned her role in what happened.

Caitlin disappeared four years ago-when she was twelve. But the first time I became aware of her ability to deceive she was only six, and the two of us were spending a Saturday together. There were many days like that one with Caitlin, and I always remember them as some of the happiest. Quiet. Simple. As easy and effortless as floating in a pool of water.

On that particular day, Caitlin was playing with a group of kids from the neighborhood. Back then, a number of families with small children lived on our street, and the kids were all about the same age. They ran around together in the yards, playing on swing sets and jumping in leaves. No matter where the kids went, a set of adult eyes watched them. We liked the neighborhood for that reason.

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