Where was Brooklyn? Tracy felt a stab of anxiety. She looked all over the apartment, in all the places the little girl liked to hide. She had looked under the beds, in the cupboards, and even in the laundry hamper. They were going to be late for daycare.
Her rising panic intensified when she saw that the front door was standing wide open and Brooklyn’s backpack lay in a corner of the hallway, discarded. Little Brooklyn was just three years old, and she still had the wide-eyed wonder that little girls display at that age.
Her view of the world was still innocent, and she had not yet been jaded by it. She was always greeting strangers. Her mother, Tracy Raymond Andrake, was concerned at first, but then she put the worry out of her mind. “It won’t happen,” she thought. “Not to us. Read the full story here ▶
