My tears stopped immediately.
Part 2 — The Note
I wiped my face and hurried to the door.
A young police officer stood beneath the porch light.
He looked barely older than some of my children.
Clean uniform. Serious expression. Hands held carefully in front of him.
“Are you Linda?” he asked.
My stomach dropped.
No mother wants a police officer asking her name at nine o’clock at night.
“Yes.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“This is for you.”
I stared at it.
My name had been written across the front.
And I knew that handwriting.
Grant.
My fingers suddenly felt cold.
Of all my children, Grant had always been the one who kept me awake at night.
He was impulsive, stubborn, funny, reckless, and somehow determined to learn every lesson the difficult way.
When the phone rang after midnight, Grant was usually the first name that flashed through my mind.
I unfolded the note.
There was only one message.
Mom, don’t call anyone. Don’t ask questions. Just listen to him and get in the car.
For a moment, the words wouldn’t make sense.
Then fear slammed into me.
I looked at the officer.
