When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
My wedding.
And the last night I ever saw David.
Twelve years ago.
He had left my parents’ house after an argument.
His car was found two days later at a long-term parking lot near Portland.
No body.
No reliable sightings.
No goodbye.
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