I had spent much of my younger life in the water.
I knew its demands.
I knew how much energy it took to swim a long distance.
I knew how to keep my breathing steady.
I knew how to remain focused when my muscles began to tire.
But I had never experienced anything like that search.
The water itself hadn't changed.
My relationship with it had.
Every time I looked around and failed to find Cassie, the fear became harder to manage.
I tried to concentrate on what I could see.
The surface.
The distance.
The movement of the boats.
I searched for anything that might help me identify her location.
I kept remembering the pink swimsuit.
It was such a small detail.
A color I had seen that morning without giving it much thought.
Now it was something I desperately wanted to see again.
I remembered the strawberry hair tie too.
I wished I hadn't found it.
Not because I wanted to lose it.
Because finding it had made the situation feel even more real.
It was proof that something belonging to Cassie had been left behind.
But it wasn't proof of where she was.
I couldn't let myself confuse those things.
I called her name again.
My voice sounded different now.
I was tired.
I was frightened.
But I kept calling.
I thought about the promise I had made to her.
I had told her I would come.
She had believed me.
I wanted her to know that I was there.
I wanted her to know I hadn't stopped looking.
Behind me, the activity around the lake continued.
I knew people were trying to help.
I wanted the emergency call to bring the right response.
I wanted someone with the proper equipment to reach the area.
But I couldn't see enough from where I was to know what was happening.
I turned my attention back to the water.
I kept searching.
I had no other choice.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Family Holiday Was Gone, and All That Remained Was the Question I Had Been Asking Since I Saw Her Fall
The One Rule I Never Let My Daughter Forget, and the Family That Thought I Was Being Far Too Careful
Part 11 of 20
