My Neighbor Dug Holes in His Backyard Every Weekend – Then the Police Suddenly Arrived One Morning

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Inside was a faded baby photograph.

Me.

Or Anna.

I knew it instantly. I had seen the same photo once in Marie’s junk drawer when I was ten. She snatched it away before I could ask questions.

On the back, in neat handwriting, were the words: “Anna, six months old. First laugh after a bath.”

My knees nearly buckled.

Linda kept talking, maybe because once continue reading …