My daughter disappeared at 16 without her phone, without her sandals, and without giving any explanation. Eight years later, the first real clue I found was neither a message nor a call from the police, but a handmade garment worn by a stranger.
My 16-year-old daughter, Nora, disappeared from a crowded beach eight years ago.
She told me she was going all the way to the ice cream stand at the very back.
I watched her walk away.
I remember thinking that she had grown a lot during the winter.
Twenty minutes later, her towel was still lying on the sand, next to mine.
Her sandals were resting on it, and her phone was upside down in her bag.
At first, it annoyed me.
Then I started to worry.
Then I became very scared.
The lifeguards searched the water.
The police checked the toilets, car parks, hotels and roads leading
