You're still holding on to the hope that she's going to come running in through that back door.

You didn't want it to be dark because you wanted to keep looking.

She was a mom full of pain looking for her baby and her baby hadn't come home.

My mom asked her what happened.

Did you find her? He looked at my mom and he said I'm sorry.

She'd been stabbed multiple times and there was blood within the interior of the car.

She was a targeted victim.

We had no witness. We had no confession. We had no DNA.

They still had to keep looking for what I had lost.

My first daughter was born and I remember going to Mary and I say I know, I know now, how you feel.

I put a lot of faith in God. Darren was his tool.

This was everything to her. I fulfilled my promise.

In the wee small hours of the morning while the whole wide world is fast asleep,

Mary Bennett is awake, not because she wants to be,

but because something stay with you, whether you want them to or not.

And for Mary Bennett, it's the time 3.40 am.

Every day I wake up around that time. It's embedded in my brain.

For more than two decades, that particular time has stabbed her in the heart, pulled her awake.

It's an internal clock permanently set to the worst day of her life.

It began with a phone call, then a knock on the door,

and news of something that should never have happened to this family, to this girl.

When she would come inside the house, her favorite thing was,

...