Honey, do mom a favor. Take this down to the mailbox, okay?

Okay, I love you, Mom.

I love you, too.

Vicki Lynn Hoskinson never returned home after running the errand for her mother.

Her abandoned bicycle was the only clue to her disappearance.

She was the only clue to her disappearance.

She was the youngest in the Eight-year-old Vicki Lynn Hoskinson grew up in flowing wells, a suburb of Tucson, Arizona.

She was the youngest in a family brought together by the second marriage of her mother, Debbie Carlson.

There was something about her that grabbed her heart the minute you were around her.

She had this intensity of a royal blueness in her eyes.

When you looked into her eyes, you saw this depth of wisdom that was beyond her years.

Vicki's prized possession was the pink stingray bicycle she had received as a Christmas present,

which is what she rode to the mailbox on the day she disappeared.

To get to the mailbox, Vicki headed down a dirt path behind some neighbors' homes,

went down a dead-end street, and over an uncleared area of desert brush.

Her mother expected Vicky back in ten minutes. When she didn't return, she sent her older

daughter, Stephanie, to look for her. Stephanie came right back, and she was hysterical, and she was crying.

She was,

Mom, I found Vicki's bike in the middle of the road. And I go, what do you mean he found

Vicki's bike in the middle of the road? She goes, it was laying in the middle of the road.

And she goes, something's wrong, something's wrong. My mom got in the car and drove around

and picked up the bicycle and, you know, rode through the neighborhood, looking for Vicky.

...