I set the heavy plastic laundry basket on the edge of the mattress and began searching the corners of his room.

The black stand remained in its usual spot near the window, but the padded cradle held nothing but empty air.

I checked the depths of his closet, looked beneath the dust ruffle under his bed, and searched behind the door.

I spotted the heavy molded plastic case lying flat beneath his window, but when I popped the metal latches, it was completely barren.

A terrible chill swept through my chest, convincing me that an intruder had quietly burglarized our home while I ran morning errands.