I watched his face for anything that would tell me whether my son’s best friend was coming home.

After thirteen minutes, a voice crackled over the speaker: “We have verbal contact with both.”

Brenda made a sound that was half a sob and half a breath.

She reached for my hand.

Neither of us let go.

PART 5

The Boy They Carried Out

Gavin emerged on a stretcher just after six, his face pale under a blanket and his right leg secured in a splint.