Girls Vanished From Lemonade Stand — 5 Years Later, a Leak in the Attic Shocked Police… | HO

VISALIA, CALIFORNIA — On a blistering summer afternoon in 2007, two little girls vanished from their front yard lemonade stand while their mother folded laundry just steps away. There were no screams, no struggle—just two empty plastic chairs, a sweating pitcher of lemonade, and a scattering of quarters in the grass.

The disappearance of Avery and Sloan Harwick, ages 7 and 8, stunned the quiet Central Valley community and left their family in an agonizing limbo that would last for years.

For half a decade, the case went cold. Then, in the summer of 2012, a routine plumbing call to an abandoned house just six blocks away cracked the case wide open—and exposed a nightmare far darker than anyone had imagined.

The Day Everything Changed

On June 18, 2007, the Harwick sisters set up their lemonade stand on Crosswind Lane. Their mother, Jenna, kept them in sight as she worked outside. At some point between 2:15 and 2:45 p.m., the girls disappeared. Neighbors reported nothing unusual; there were no witnesses, no vehicles, no sounds of distress. Within hours, police and volunteers were combing the neighborhood, but the only clues were the girls’ belongings left behind.

The investigation quickly grew desperate. “It was like they vanished into thin air,” recalls Detective Ashley Vance, who worked the case from its earliest days. “No evidence, no suspects, no leads. It haunted all of us.”

A Neighborhood Secret

Five years later, the Harwick case was a faded memory for most—except for the family, who never stopped searching, and for the police, who kept the missing persons file open but stagnant. That changed on a humid July morning in 2012, when a water leak in the attic of 847 Crosswind Lane—the house next door to the Harwicks’ old home—brought plumber Dominic Cruz crawling through rotted insulation.

What Cruz found would trigger a cascade of events that shook Visalia to its core.

“I thought it was just mold at first,” Cruz told investigators. “But then I saw these broken boards, pink paint, and a sign—‘Lemonade 25 cents’—just like from the news stories years ago. That’s when I knew.”

Cruz also found two small plastic cups, a cracked pitcher, a coffee can filled with tarnished coins, and, most chilling of all, a spiral notebook. The first page read: “Day one. They stopped crying when I told them about the lemonade.”

The Evidence No One Wanted

Within hours, police had cordoned off the property. Evidence bags filled the table at the Visalia PD: the shattered lemonade stand, the girls’ clothing, and the notebook, each page a meticulous account of the girls’ captivity. The attic, it turned out, had been used as a makeshift holding cell for the missing children.

Detective Vance was the one who called the girls’ father, Cole Harwick, to deliver the news. “We found some things,” she told him, voice steady but grave. “You need to come in.”

The evidence led to a shocking suspect: Glenn Mastersonson, the Harwicks’ next-door neighbor. Friendly, helpful, a fixture at neighborhood barbecues—he had even joined the search parties the night the girls went missing. But Mastersonson had sold the house and moved out of state just weeks after the disappearance.

A Father’s Mission

For five years, Cole Harwick had lived every parent’s nightmare. A former special forces soldier, he’d spent his nights replaying the last day he saw his daughters, fielding false leads and psychic scams, and watching his marriage fray under the weight of grief.

When evidence pointed to Mastersonson, Harwick’s training kicked in. He tracked the suspect to a rural address in Beckley, West Virginia, and made the 14-hour drive himself. “This was no longer just about closure,” said a source close to the family. “Cole was on a mission.”

Harwick’s reconnaissance revealed Mastersonson was living alone, his windows covered in foil, his movements paranoid. But it was the sound of faint, rhythmic thumping from beneath the house that confirmed Harwick’s worst fears: someone was still being held captive.

The Rescue

Under cover of darkness, Harwick crawled through the house’s crawlspace, following the sound to a padlocked wooden box. Inside, he found two malnourished girls—Avery and Sloan—alive but traumatized, five years after they’d vanished.

The reunion, as described by police, was raw and immediate. “Are you my daddy?” Avery whispered through the darkness. “Yeah, baby. It’s Daddy. I found you.”

Harwick led his daughters to safety, instructing them to drive his truck to the nearest police station if anything went wrong. Then he returned to the house to confront Mastersonson.

The Monster Next Door

The confrontation was swift and brutal. Harwick, armed and trained, extracted a confession from Mastersonson, who revealed details of a larger child trafficking network operating across state lines. “He talked about the girls like they were pets he got attached to,” said one investigator. “It was sickening.”

Mastersonson did not survive the night. Police found evidence of his death and a wealth of information about the trafficking ring, including names, addresses, and locations of other victims.

Unraveling the Network

Information provided by Harwick and his daughters led to a multi-state investigation involving the FBI. Within weeks, federal agents raided a warehouse in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, rescuing 17 children and arresting dozens of suspects. The media called it the largest child trafficking bust in decades.

Detective Vance credited Harwick’s determination. “Without him, those girls would never have come home. And we never would have found the others.”

Coming Home

The Harwick family’s return was bittersweet. Avery and Sloan, now teenagers, struggled to adjust to life outside captivity. Jenna Harwick, their mother, worked to rebuild trust and routine, but the scars—emotional and physical—ran deep.

Cole Harwick, once a mechanic, left his job and devoted himself to helping other families of missing children. Anonymous donors, many of them parents of rescued kids, now fund his work. “He’s not just a father—he’s a force of nature,” said one FBI agent.

The Aftermath

Six months after the rescue, the Harwicks are still healing. Therapy sessions, nightly rituals, and a new family cat help, but the trauma lingers. “We talk about the girls in the present tense now,” Jenna said. “They’re home. That’s all that matters.”

But for Cole, the mission isn’t over. “There are more kids out there,” he told investigators. “And I’m not stopping until every one of them is found.”

A Community Changed

The Visalia case has become a cautionary tale for communities everywhere. The monster was not a stranger, but a trusted neighbor—a reminder that evil can hide in plain sight. The evidence sat in an attic for five years, just steps from where the girls disappeared.

Detective Vance put it simply: “If you see something, say something. You might save a life.”

Epilogue

The Harwick girls’ story is one of unimaginable loss and miraculous survival. It’s a testament to the power of a parent’s love—and the darkness that can fester behind closed doors. For now, the girls are home, their family is whole, and the hunt for the rest of the missing continues.