The details were hazy at best. We only knew she'd left her dorm at UMass Amherst and headed north, only to skid off the road in rural New Hampshire. She walked away from the accident but was never seen again.

A flurry of rumors and bits of information flew through the airwaves and in print over the next several days. Did she run away? Was she kidnapped? Did the police do enough in the immediate aftermath of Maura's disappearance? Would the FBI get involved?

Back home in Hanson, I was calling friends and family, digging up photos of the former Whitman-Hanson track star, and learning more about a quiet, driven girl and her family.

A few days after the story broke, I went to Laurie Murray's home to interview her.

As the story of Maura Murray's disappearance unfolded, I constantly thought about that day. To me, that image encapsulated all the frustration, fear, and heartbreak of a young girl who seemed to vanish into the cold air of the New Hampshire mountains.I walked into the small home and sat down in the living room to speak with Maura's mom and her brother. On the wall above hung large portraits of Maura and her sister Julie in their West Point uniforms.

I wasn't sure what questions to ask. I couldn't think of anything that didn't sound trivial and foolish to ask this woman who didn't know where her daughter was, or if she was dead or alive.

Maura's mother was tired from lack of sleep. Lines from a thousand anxious questions creased the skin on her face. She spoke softly and slowly, like someone in a dream.

And all the while, she was wringing her hands constantly. As if her hands were the only part of her body that could express the frustration in her heart.

As the story of Maura Murray's disappearance unfolded, I constantly thought about that day. To me, that image encapsulated all the frustration, fear, and heartbreak of a young girl who seemed to vanish into the cold air of the New Hampshire mountains. As police dogs combed the woods, investigators knocked on doors and sifted through evidence, her family, the people who loved her and wanted more than anything to find her, could do nothing but sit and wring their hands.