Biker Found His Missing Daughter After 31 Years But She Was Arresting Him

But I couldn’t. Thirty-one years of silence were breaking. “She had a birthmark just like yours. Right below her left ear.”

Officer Chen’s hand instinctively went to her ear, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been watching me?”

“I haven’t been. I swear. I just—” How could I explain? “You look like someone I lost.”

She pushed me toward her cruiser, rougher now. “Save it for booking.”

The ride to the station was agony. Twenty minutes of staring at the back of my daughter’s head, seeing Amy’s stubborn cowlick that no amount of gel could tame.

She kept checking the mirror, probably wondering if she had a stalker in her backseat.

At the station, she passed me off to another officer for processing.

But I saw her watching from across the room as they took my prints, my photo, ran my record.

Clean except for some minor stuff from the ’90s—bar fights during the angry years after Sarah disappeared.

The breathalyzer came back 0.00. The blood test would too. Officer Chen frowned at the results.

“Told you I was sober,” I said when she came back.

“Why were you acting so strange?”

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