As a new mother, I wanted only the best for my children. I hoped and dreamed for big plans in their lives. Our dream for Vicki became a nightmare on February 24, 1987. Vicki had a part-time job at a local convenience store. She and I spoke earlier in the day discussing her new haircut. When she did not come home from work, I began to worry; by midnight I was frantic. The police didn't seem worried, but my intuition told me different. When one day turned into a week, our life turned upside down. A young girl is found murdered in our small town. Friends and relatives put out posters. Where could my daughter be? Who would take my child? My only hope was God. My upstairs attic became my prayer chambers. Here I lean on my heavenly Father to bring my girl home and ease our broken hearts. Where is my Vicki?

--Dianne Partridge

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