But it was short-lived.

I found him twenty minutes later on a bench at Oak Creek Park, three blocks from the house, under a single streetlight, knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the woodchips.

I called Bethany, and within two minutes her headlights swept the grass.

She didn’t even close the car door — she ran across the lawn, dropped to her knees, and pulled our son into her arms.

Chapter 24 — Not Your Job

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Colm mumbled into her shoulder, shaking.