I called his phone. It went straight to voicemail.
By ten o’clock, I was driving around the neighborhood looking for him.
By midnight, I was sitting in a police station filing a missing person report.
The officer asked questions, wrote everything down, and eventually said, “Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days. Arguments with parents, that sort of thing.”
“Daniel’s not like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Daniel is gentle and thoughtful. He’s the kind of kid who apologizes when someone bumps into him.”
The officer gave me a polite, sympathetic smile. “We’ll file a report, ma’am.”
But I could tell he assumed I was just another worried parent who didn’t truly know her child.
I had no idea how wrong that assumption would turn out to be.
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