“When I realized he wasn’t there, the front door was open.”
I swallowed hard.
“I ran outside,” he continued. “I didn’t even grab my shoes. I just ran.”
His hands were shaking now.
“I thought—” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
I stepped closer without thinking.
The officer spoke again.
“By the time he reached us, he was out of breath. Panicked. But he didn’t make excuses.”
He glanced at Logan.
“He kept saying, ‘Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay.’”
My vision blurred.
“I’ve been on this job for fifteen years,” the officer said, turning back to me. “And I’ll be honest—when we got the call, and I heard the name Logan, I had certain expectations.”
My stomach tightened again.
“But today,” he said firmly, “your son proved something different.”
He paused.
“He made a mistake. A serious one.”
I held my breath.
“But what matters is what he did next.”
