Every Friday at 6 p.m. my daughter called me without fail, and the one week my phone stayed silent I drove to her house and heard a sound from upstairs that turned our quiet Tennessee life into something I still can’t fully talk about

pulled me aside, his face grim.

“We might lose this, Paul,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could, but—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Not after we’ve come this far. There has to be something. Some piece we’re missing.”

Carter squeezed my shoulder.

“If there is, we’ll find it,” he said. “But we’re running out of time.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep.continue reading …