My neighbor kept insisting she spotted my daughter at home during school hours. To be sure, I pretended to leave for work—then hid beneath the bed. Minutes later, I heard more than one set of footsteps crossing the hallway.

She smiled at me. But for the first time, I saw that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Behind the hazel irises, something trembled—a frantic, caged fear.

I went to bed, but sleep was a stranger. My mind circled the possibilities like a vulture. Drugs? Boys? A secret life I knew nothing about?

By 2:00 a.m., staring at the ceiling fan slicing through the shadows, I knew I couldn’t live in the dark anymore. I had to know the truth, even if it broke my heart.