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"I don't know for sure if it's who I think it is, but...it has to be. If she remembers me," her words broke off in a sob. "If she remembers me, then it has to be Anastacia. I never called her Anna but her parents did. She was always Stacia to me. She was my very best friend and she disappeared when we were 22. She went on a date with Chad, the UCLA quarterback. Oh, but she was so happy when he asked her. She never saw how truly beautiful she was, so when the most popular boy asked her out, she didn't understand it. She was so excited." She sighed, and I could almost see the memories playing in her eyes. "Anastacia," I murmured, unable to keep myself from saying her complete name. It suited her. Original and unique, just like she was. Christine nodded. "She hated that name," she laughed out, shaking her head. "Insisted that her everyone call her Stacia. Her parents never stopped calling her Anna though. Drove her crazy, but I think she secretly loved it." I smiled with her, thinking about Anna. That definitely sounded like her. Our food finally arrived, but no one touched it. "Wait," she said, holding up her hand. "I need to know, for sure, if it's her. How can I do that though?" It seemed like she was talking to herself, but I leaned forwards. "Do you have a photo of her? On your phone, or at your home maybe? I could tell you if it's the same person that I'm trying to help." Again, her eyes went wide. "You've seen her? Actually seen her, and not just that freaky doll that looks like her?" "The doll that I described?" I asked, getting more excited. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes...but honestly, there were many, many dolls at that house. I'm sure there was more than one with black hair and green eyes." I stayed quiet, thinking that she was probably right. "I do have a photo though. I actually uploaded it a short while back, for the memorial that her little sister holds for her every year," she said, pulling out her phone. While I waited for her to find it, I thought about what she had said. Anna's little sister...hadn't she said that she had a little sister? I couldn't really remember now, after everything, but I was pretty sure that she had. Her little sister held a memorial for her every year. Every year since her disappearance. If she was the the same age as Christine, and Christine had said as much, then that was a lot of years. It took me a minute to comprehend that Anna was supposed to be the same age as the woman sitting beside me. I could see the small, fine lines around her mouth and near the corners of her eyes. The way that her skin wasn't quiet as tight as it used to be. She was trying to keep that youthful appearance with makeup and probably all kinds of creams, but age eventually took us all. Anna would be doing the same thing, if she had the chance to live her life. But her life was stolen from her. She would never get to experience any of that. She wouldn't get to really fall in love and get married. She would never have kids. She would never get to watch her kids get older, and have her grandchildren. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Sam noticed, because I felt him squeeze my arm. He shook his head, when I looked at him. I sighed, leaned back in my chair, and tried to be patient while Christine looked for the photo. After a few more agonizing minutes, she let out a squeal, drawing the few people who were in the restaurants attention. "You found it?" I asked, leaning towards her. When she met my gaze, her eyes were lit with excitement and memories. "I did. I'm almost scared to show you," she answered. "Why would you be scared?" Sam asked her, speaking up for the first time since we sat down. "Because if it's her, then she's been stuck in that house, in that doll, for a few decades, and I did nothing to help her. If it's not her...I'm afraid my heart will break again. I never got over losing her. She was my sister," she answered sadly. "Either way, it's heartbreak, but if it's the first one, and it's truly her, then maybe I'll get to see her and apologize for letting her down. For not looking for her hard enough, or long enough. For not giving her family closure. Her father, before he passed. He never gave up on her." She sighed again, heavily and turned the phone towards me. I sucked in a deep breath at what I saw. My chest felt tight, and painful like I had the wind literally knocked out of me. There were two girls in the picture, their arms thrown over one another. The girl on the right was clearly Christine, at a younger, more carefree age. She was gorgeous, even with her hair stiff and tall, teased out like the way they did it back in the 80's. The girl on the left is what stole my breath.  It was definitely Anna. There was no denying it. Even in this grainy, old photo, her eyes were their clear, vibrant green. Her mouth was open with laughter, just like Christine's. I could almost hear it, ringing out with that tinkling sound, followed by a snort. "It's her, isn't it? I can tell by the way you're looking at it. Oh my God, it's her," Christine whispered, then covered her mouth with her fingers. I reluctantly handed her phone back. "It's her," I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. So, I knew who she was now. I had found someone who actually knew her, her best friend at that. Christine could probably tell us so many Anna stories, and I wanted to hear every single one. "Can I see her? Talk to her? I need her to know that I'm sorry, that I tried. I wish I would've tried harder, but I didn't know what to do. Please?" I listened to her practically beg me to see her best friend, just one last time, and felt shame when I shook my head. "Not yet," I replied, my tone as heavy as my heart. "Soon, I promise. She's in danger right now, and...well, it's complicated. I can't tell her too much because we think she's being watched. I have to keep this from her, for now." 

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