The girl—blond, thin, fast—definitely looked like Cait-and I’d spotted her in the park where Caitlin had disappeared. She looked younger than Caitlin should have looked after four years away.But then, if it was Caitlin, if that was my daughter, why did she run at the first sight of me? Why did she bolt when we locked eyes?The sun was passing overhead, and the sweat under my shirt itched at my skin like millions of tiny bugs. I unbuttoned the shirt, my hands shaking and struggling, and pulled it off. I walked the rest of the way in my sticky wet T-shirt.My phone rang. Liann. “Tom, where are you?” she asked, without even a hello.“I just saw Caitlin in the park,” I said, also not bothering with pleasantries.“What?”“I saw Caitlin. I mean, it might have been Caitlin. It was a young girl, and she looked like Caitlin, but when she saw me she ran off and I couldn’t catch her.”“We don’t have time for this now, Tom. Listen. The police, Ryan—they’re having a press conference right now.
