Cocoa, Florida

July 20, 2003

My daughter’s name is Lynn. I had been married to her dad for about two years. Mike and I fought a lot about silly stuff. That’s why we got divorced. After the divorce, he moved out and got a house on the other side of Cocoa from us. Before too long, Mike had visitation rights assigned by the court.  We had been doing visitation for about a year, and it was going fine. I would drop Lynn off on Friday evening, and on Sunday afternoon, I  would pick her up. This particular Friday, things were very routine; I brought her to his house and then went home. 

Two days later, on Sunday, I returned to pick her up. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon. It was hot, and the air smelled like rain. It had rained for a few minutes while I was driving. When I got to the house, no cars were in the driveway. The front curtains were closed. It looked like no one was home. I walked up to the steps and then to the front door. I rang the bell. There was no answer. So I rang the bell again. I peered in the window, but the curtains were closed. They were heavy curtains, where very little light or heat got through. They were this sandy beige colour.  I started knocking on the door, but there was still no answer. I returned to my car, a powder blue 1969 Buick Le Sabre, got my cell phone and dialled Mike. 

On my way back to the front door, I could hear the phone ringing in my ear, but there was no answer. So I knocked on the door again. Then I started walking around the house. As I got to the back of the house, I saw the curtains open. That’s when I noticed that the curtains weren’t just open, but there were no curtains. So now I’m redialing Mike, and I walk up to the window and look inside, and there is nothing—all the furniture is gone. There was just this tiny pile of stuff in the corner. But everything else was gone. There was no sofa, no TV. Everything was just gone. I started walking to the back of the house, by the kitchen window, while I was still calling Mike and getting no answer. 

I heard a phone ringing when I looked out the kitchen window. That’s when I saw the telephone on the kitchen counter. It was Mike’s cell. I remember it because Mike always had this old beat-up Samsung. I went to the sliding glass door and tried to open it. They were open, and I went into the house. I picked up the cell from the kitchen counter. It was Mike’s old Samsung. There were three missed calls from me. 

The house was completely empty. There was no sign of Mike or Lynn anywhere. I went into Lynn’s bedroom, and it was empty. I went into Mike's room, and the same thing happened. Everything was gone. There was a pile of junk on the floor. It was some magazines and bills. I ran back outside, calling Lynn’s name, and that’s when I saw Jean. She told me that Mike had moved out yesterday. My daughter was gone.

Sincerely,
Jennifer Broadie