Hours felt like minutes, or perhaps it was the other way around. The lead detective approached, a somber look on his face. “We found something,” he said, motioning for me to follow him. We walked to the kitchen, where a crumpled piece of paper lay on the counter. It was a note, hastily written in Daniel’s familiar scrawl.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep him safe. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t want to drag you into this, but it’s too late now. If you’re reading this, please take care of Matthew. Love, Daniel.”