They departed the cemetery shortly after midday.

The harsh summer sun beat down on the highway as shopping centers, industrial parks, and concrete walls passed by in a blur.

Martha held the childhood picture of Christopher tightly against her lap.

Detective Miller kept his eyes on the road.

“When was the last time you saw your son before today?”

“Two Sundays ago at my farm,” Martha answered quietly.

“Did he act anxious or fearful about anything?”