A young boy disappeared at a baseball game, vanishing without a trace despite an extensive search.

But 9 months later, his father looks inside the coach’s cooler, and what he sees makes him gasp.

Dan Hartman stared at the printer as it churned out another flyer.

The face of his 12-year-old son, Robbie, smiling back at him from the glossy paper.

The morning light filtered through the dusty windows of Mike Lacier’s garage, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.

9 months.

It had been 9 months since Robbie disappeared without a trace after a baseball game, and the weight of that time hung heavy on Dan’s shoulders.

I was thinking we could check the eastern side of the forest today, Mike said, interrupting Dan’s thoughts.

There’s a ravine about 3 mi in that we haven’t covered yet.

It’s pretty dense, but if someone wanted to hide, Mike Lacier, Robbiey’s baseball coach and Dan’s best friend, had been his rock through this nightmare.

A former NYPD officer in his early 40s, Mike had the tactical knowledge and unwavering determination that kept the search for Robbie alive long after everyone else had given up.

“You think it’s worth checking?” Dan asked, Hope barely clinging to his words.

Mike nodded, his expression solemn.

I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t.

We’ll need the tactical gear, though.

It’s rough terrain.

Dan collected another flyer from the printer tray.

Robbie’s face, his sandy blonde hair sticking out from under his baseball cap, those bright eyes full of life, stared back at him.

The text below the photo hadn’t changed in months.

Missing Robert Robbie Hartman, 12 years old, last seen at Gardener Ballfield.

It’s like he just vanished into thin air, Dan said, more to himself than to Mike.

One minute he was there, and the next we’ll find him, Mike assured him, placing a firm hand on Dan’s shoulder.

I promise you that.

The township of Gardener, nestled in Olter County, New York, had rallied around Dan in those first few weeks.

Search parties combed the woods surrounding the ball field.

Volunteers distributed flyers.

Local news stations ran the story.

But as weeks turned to months with no leads, the community’s interest waned.

Parents who had once helped search now crossed the street to avoid awkward conversations with Dan.

Some had even pulled their kids from the baseball league, spooked by the idea that a child could disappear from what was supposed to be a safe place.

Even the police had all but abandoned the case.

“Without new leads, there’s not much more we can do,” the detective had told Dan during their last meeting.

“We’ll keep the file open.

” But only Mike had remained constant, dedicating his weekends and evenings to the search, leveraging his law enforcement background to think of new angles, new places to look.

“I’ll go pack the backpacks,” Mike said, heading toward the house.

We’ll need water, tools, walking sticks, the usual.

It’s going to be a long day.

As Mike disappeared into the house, Dan’s mind drifted to what he knew about his friend.

After leaving the NYPD due to a heart condition that required a stent, Mike had settled in Gardener, taking up carpentry and setting up a small woodworking studio.

His wife had urged him to leave the force, concerned about the stress on his heart.

But tragically, she never got to see him settled in his new life.

She had contracted deni fever during an overseas trip and passed away, leaving Mike to raise their daughter Millie alone.

The printer suddenly made a high-pitched squeak, followed by the telltale crunch of a paper jam.

Dan sighed and lifted the printer hood, carefully extracting the crumpled paper.

The mechanism seemed stiff.

probably needs some oil,” Dan muttered to himself, scanning the garage for WD40.

He spotted Mike’s workbench and started opening drawers.

In the second drawer, buried beneath screwdrivers and screws, Dan spotted a red and navy blue baseball cap.

He pulled it out immediately recognizing the distinctive red bee embroidered on the front.

The logo of the Brookside Braves, a team from the neighboring town, identical to the one Robbie had worn on the day he disappeared.

Dan was still holding the cap when Mike returned, carrying two tactical backpacks and a set of walking sticks.

“Found this in your drawer,” Dan said, holding up the cap.

“Didn’t know you were a Braves fan.

” Mike paused.

momentarily, then smiled.

“Yeah, well, a man can have two favorite teams, right? The Ridge Runners are my first love, obviously, but I’ve always had a soft spot for the Braves, too.

” “Robbie loved them,” Dan said softly, turning the cap over in his hands.

“He saved up his allowance for 3 months to buy that cap.

” “A lot of kids around here wear those,” Mike said, loading his gear into the trunk of his car.

“Local pride and all that.

Dan nodded, returning the cap to the drawer.

I was looking for some WD40, actually.

Printers jammed.

Top shelf, left side.

Mike pointed toward a set of metal shelves across the garage.

Dan found the can and applied a small amount to the printer’s rollers.

After a few minutes of tinkering, he managed to get it working again.

The last few flyers emerged, completing the stack that they would distribute later that day.

Part of him wondered if it was even worth it anymore.

9 months was a long time, and the statistics for missing children weren’t encouraging after the first 48 hours, let alone 9 months.

But giving up would mean accepting that Robbie was gone forever.

And Dan wasn’t ready to do that.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Dan placed the stack of freshly printed flyers on the back seat of Mike’s SUV before climbing into the passenger seat.

Mike took the wheel and soon they were heading away from the residential area of Gardener toward the more remote forested regions that surrounded the town.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” Dan said, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

That last game, Robbie played like he’d been born with a bat in his hand.

Mike nodded, keeping his eyes on the winding road.

He really did.

Best game of the season for him.

I was worried about his asthma acting up.

He’d been running so much, but he was fine.

More than fine.

He was on fire.

Dan smiled at the memory, though it was tinged with sadness.

He couldn’t stop talking about that double he hit in the fourth inning.

The kid had a natural swing, Mike said.

had.

He corrected himself quickly, then shot Dan an apologetic glance.

Has definitely has.

Dan appreciated the correction, the insistence on present tense.

It was a small thing, but it meant Mike hadn’t given up either.

I still don’t understand how it happened, Dan said, voicing the thought that had haunted him for months.

One minute he was heading to the changing room and the next he trailed off unable to complete the sentence.

I was loading equipment into my car, Mike recalled.

Never saw him leave the grounds.

The road narrowed as they entered the more rural part of the county, tall trees flanking either side.

I don’t know what I would have done without you these past months, Dan said, turning to look at his friend.

Everyone else gave up, even the police.

Mike kept his eyes fixed on the road.

Don’t put me on a pedestal, Dan.

If I was really that good, we would have found him by now.

He paused, then added, “But I respect the hell out of you for never giving up.

Most people would have broken by now.

” I can’t give up,” Dan said simply.

“He’s my son.

” They drove in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

The landscape outside the window transformed from scattered houses to dense woodland.

They were heading to a different section of the forest than they had searched before, further from the ball field, but still within what police considered the possible radius if Robbie had been abducted.

“How’s your heart doing?” Dan asked, glancing at Mike.

Fine, Mike replied.

The stance’s doing its job.

Doctor says I’m good as new as long as I take it easy.

And this is taking it easy.

Dan gestured toward the forest ahead.

Hiking through rough terrain.

Mike chuckled.

Compared to chasing Pers through Brooklyn, this is a walk in the park.

As they approached a gas station at the edge of the forest preserve, Mike slowed the car.

“I’m going to fill up,” he said, “and we should grab some food and drinks.

We’ll be out there a while.

” Dan nodded in agreement.

Mike had always been meticulous about preparation, especially when it came to keeping hydrated.

After coaching games, he would always have cold drinks ready for the team.

It was one of the small touches that made him popular with the kids.

They pulled into the gas station and Mike began filling the tank while Dan stretched his legs, breathing in the crisp autumn air.

There was a heaviness in his chest that never seemed to go away these days, a constant ache of worry and loss that he carried everywhere.

After Mike finished with the gas, they headed into the convenience store together.

Dan grabbed some sandwiches, energy bars, and trail mix while Mike selected canned coffee and an assortment of sodas.

Back at the car, Mike opened the trunk and revealed a familiar blue cooler box.

It was scratched and faded from years of use, but Dan recognized it immediately.

Mike brought it to every game filled with cold drinks for the team.

“Still using that old thing?” Dan commented, nodding at the cooler.

It’s still good,” Mike replied with a shrug.

“Why replace what works?” Dan placed the food items in the trunk while Mike quickly tossed the drinks into the cooler and closed it.

The cooler had become as much a part of Mike’s identity as his coaching whistle or his carpenters’s apron, a constant, reliable presence.

As they got back into the car and continued their journey toward the forest preserve, Dan felt a small surge of hope.

Maybe today would be different.

Maybe today they would find something, a clue, a sign, anything that might lead them to Robbie.

But beneath that hope was a nagging doubt that had been growing over the months.

What if they never found him? What if this search, like all the others before it, ended with them returning home empty-handed, with nothing to show for their efforts but dirt on their boots and new lines on their faces? Dan pushed the thought away.

He couldn’t afford to think like that.

Not now.

Not ever.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as Mike pulled into the small parking area at the forest park entrance.

A sign marked hiking trail pointed toward a narrow path that disappeared into the trees.

The air was cool and laden with the earthy scent of decomposing leaves and pine.

This is it, Mike said, turning off the engine.

The east entrance.

We haven’t searched this section yet.

They got out of the car and Mike opened the trunk to retrieve their gear.

Dan grabbed his backpack and the bundle of flyers from the back seat.

The forest stretched before them, a vast expanse of green and brown, silent except for the occasional call of a bird.

“I’m going to grab a drink before we head out,” Dan said, walking to the back of the car where Mike was organizing their equipment.

He opened the lid of the blue cooler and reached in, pushing aside the larger soda bottles to find his canned coffee.

As his fingers probed the icy interior, they brushed against something small and cylindrical, not a drink.

Dan fished it out and found himself holding an asthma inhaler.

The sight of it sent a jolt through him.

It was identical to the one Robbie used, a standard albuterol inhaler with a blue cap.

“Mike,” Dan called, waving the inhaler.

“Do you have asthma?” Mike turned, and for a brief moment, something flashed across his face.

Surprise, confusion, perhaps even fear.

He seemed at a loss for words, which struck Dan as odd.

In all the years he’d known Mike, he’d never seen him flustered.

Oh, that.

Where did you find it? Mike said finally, walking over.

It’s Milliey’s.

She was diagnosed last month.

Really? Dan frowned, examining the inhaler.

I didn’t know.

That’s tough.

I found it here in the cooler box.

Yeah, well, kids these days, Mike said, reaching for the inhaler.

We live in Gardener, not even in NYC with all that pollution, and still they get asthma.

Dan handed over the inhaler, but as Mike moved to return it to the cooler, Dan stopped him.

“You know what, Mike?” he said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to store Milliey’s inhaler in the cooler.

The medicine shouldn’t be kept in cold temperatures for too long.

It can reduce its effectiveness.

” “Mike hesitated.

” “Right,” he said after a moment.

“I didn’t know that.

Millie likes the cold sensation when she takes it.

Says it works better for her that way.

She’s just like my granny that way.

Always preferred things cold.

I usually only keep it in there for a short time, but I guess I forgot to take it out yesterday.

Dan nodded, though a small voice in the back of his mind questioned whether a doctor wouldn’t have mentioned proper storage to Mike when prescribing the medication for Millie.

Still, he didn’t want to make an issue of it.

People had their preferences, and he vaguely recalled reading that brief cold storage wouldn’t harm the medication.

Just looking out for Millie, Dan said, closing the cooler lid and opening his coffee.

Mike slipped the inhaler into his pocket, then reached back into the trunk and pulled out a handgun.

He checked the magazine, then looked at Dan.

“We should take this with us,” he said.

“For protection.

You never know what kind of wildlife we might encounter out there.

” Dan raised an eyebrow.

They’d gone on dozens of searches, and Mike had never brought a gun before.

Before he could comment, a uniformed park ranger approached them.

“Excuse me, sir,” the ranger said, eyeing the weapon.

“Fires are not permitted in the forest park.

” Mike turned smoothly, slipping the gun back into its case.

“My apologies, officer.

I’m a former NYPD detective.

” He reached for his wallet and showed his identification.

Force of habit, I guess.

The ranger examined the ID, then nodded.

I understand, sir, but I still have to enforce park regulations.

No firearms allowed.

Of course, Mike said, “My mistake.

It’ll stay locked in the car.

” The ranger gave them a warning look before continuing on his patrol, and Dan couldn’t help but notice the tension in Mike’s shoulders as he watched the ranger walk away.

“Since when do you bring a gun on our searches?” Dan asked quietly.

Mike shrugged, securing the weapon case in the trunk.

Just being cautious.

There have been reports of bears in this area, but you heard the man.

Rules are rules.

Dan took a long sip of his coffee, studying his friend.

Something felt off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Mike had always been the steady one, the rock he could lean on.

But today, he seemed different, jumpy almost.

You okay? Dan asked.

You seem a little on edge.

I’m fine, Mike said perhaps a bit too quickly.

Just anxious to get going.

Were burning daylight.

Dan nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

As they gathered their backpacks and walking sticks, he found himself wondering about the inhaler in the cooler and why Mike had suddenly felt the need to bring a gun.

small things perhaps, but in the back of his mind, small inconsistencies were beginning to stack up, like the first pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t yet see clearly.

They set off along the trail, the soft earth muffling their footsteps.

The morning was pleasant enough, cool, but not cold, with dappled sunlight breaking through the canopy above.

Under different circumstances, it might have been an enjoyable hike.

Dan paused now and then to tack missing person flyers onto wooden posts wherever he could, hoping to catch the eye of anyone who might wander this way.

“The GPS shows a fork about half a mile ahead,” Mike said, checking his device.

“We’ll take the right path.

It leads to an area that’s less frequently traveled.

” Dan nodded, adjusting his backpack.

He’d gotten used to these expeditions over the months.

the weight of the pack, the rhythmic sound of their walking sticks striking the ground, the silence that often stretched between them as they focused on scanning their surroundings.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the well-maintained trail gradually gave way to more rugged terrain.

The path narrowed and began to slope downward, the ground becoming damp and slippery with fallen leaves.

Dan continued posting flyers along the way, partly to spread the word, but also to leave a trail, a reminder of the path they had taken.

“Watch your step here,” Mike warned as they negotiated a particularly steep section.

“It gets tricky,” Dan proceeded cautiously, using his walking stick for support.

The forest had thickened around them, the trees growing closer together, blocking much of the light.

It created an eerie, closedin feeling, as if the woods were watching them.

“Do you really think someone could have brought Robbie all the way out here?” Dan asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Mike paused, surveying the dense undergrowth.

“If they wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be found quickly, yes, this area isn’t often patrolled, and there are plenty of places to hide.

” Dan shuddered at the thought.

The idea of his son, frightened and alone in these woods, was almost too much to bear.

But he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, searching, scanning, looking for any sign that might lead them to Robbie.

They continued on, the path growing increasingly difficult to follow.

In some places, it seemed to disappear altogether, forcing them to make their own way through the thick vegetation.

Let’s spread out a bit, Mike suggested.

You take that side of the clearing.

I’ll take this one.

Look for anything unusual.

Disturbed ground, pieces of clothing, anything that seems out of place.

Dan nodded and moved off to the right, his eyes sweeping the forest floor.

Every fallen branch, every rustle in the undergrowth caught his attention, only to disappoint him when it turned out to be nothing.

He was so focused on his search that he almost didn’t notice the ground dropping away sharply at the edge of a small ravine.

His foot slipped on the wet leaves, and suddenly he was sliding, scrabbling for purchase on the slick embankment.

“Mike,” he called out, his voice tight with panic.

Mike rushed over and extended his hand, but there was an odd moment of hesitation, a split second where he simply stood there, looking down at Dan as he struggled to keep from sliding further down the slope.

“Mike,” Dan called again, more urgently this time.

Finally, Mike grabbed Dan’s outstretched hand and pulled him up.

Dan scrambled back onto solid ground, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Thanks,” he gasped once he’d caught his breath.

That was close, but why did you wait? I thought you were going to let me fall.

Mike’s expression was unreadable.

Sorry, he said.

I was shocked.

It’s been a long time since I had to pull someone up like that.

Old police reflexes are a bit rusty, I guess.

Dan nodded, though the explanation didn’t quite sit right with him.

It hadn’t seemed like shock on Mike’s face.

It had seemed like deliberation, as if he was weighing whether to help Dan or not.

Let’s head back, Mike said abruptly.

My chest is feeling a bit uncomfortable.

I think we’ve covered enough ground for today.

Dan knew about Mike’s heart condition and didn’t want to risk his health.

Sure, of course, he agreed.

We can always come back another day.

As they made their way back toward the trail head, Dan couldn’t help but notice that Mike seemed perfectly fine, climbing uphill with ease, leading the way without any signs of discomfort.

And he’d grown quieter, more reserved, which wasn’t like him at all.

The trail back always seemed shorter, and before long, they could see the parking area through the trees.

As they approached the car, Mike suddenly stopped.

“I just remembered,” he said.

I need to pick up Millie from school.

Doesn’t she usually take the school bus home? Dan asked, puzzled.

Mike hesitated, then said, I promised her last week I’d watch her practice baseball today after school.

She’s beginning to love baseball, Dan.

Just like me.

That’s great, Dan said, though he felt a twinge of pain at the thought of another child enjoying the sport that Robbie had loved so much.

We can continue the search another time.

Next week, maybe.

Mike nodded, relief evident on his face.

Next week, he agreed.

When they reached the car, Mike quickly loaded their equipment into the trunk.

Dan, thirsty after the hike, went to the cooler for another drink.

“Want something?” he asked Mike, lifting the lid.

“No,” Mike replied curtly.

“You sure?” Dan pressed, surprised by the abrupt response.

Mike always enjoyed a cold drink after physical activity.

It was one of his few indulgences.

I’m sure, Mike said, his tone more forceful than necessary.

Dan retrieved a soda for himself, increasingly aware of the tension emanating from his friend.

It was so unlike Mike to be this tur, this on edge.

The Mike he knew was steady, reliable, and always in control.

This Mike seemed different.

After loading their gear, they got into the car.

Mike took the inhaler out of his pocket before sitting, seeming uncomfortable with it there.

“Here, let me hold that for you,” Dan offered, reaching out his hand.

“Or I can put it in the glove compartment.

” “No, it’s fine,” Mike said, placing the inhaler in the coin compartment near the driver’s seat instead.

Dan found this odd, too.

it would have been more natural to accept his offer or place the inhaler somewhere more secure.

These small inconsistencies were adding up, creating a picture that Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to see clearly.

As Mike started the car and pulled out of the parking area, Dan stared out the window at the receding forest, his mind churning with questions he didn’t know how to ask, suspicions he didn’t want to acknowledge, and a growing unease about the man sitting beside him, the man he’d trusted above all others to help find his son.

The drive to Milliey’s school was mostly silent, with Mike focused intently on the road, and Dan lost in his own troubled thoughts.

When they pulled up to the school entrance, Millie was waiting on the steps, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

She bounded over to the car, her face lighting up when she saw Dan in the passenger seat.

Millie was 12, the same age as Robbie, with her father’s determined eyes and her late mother’s gentle smile.

“Uncle Dan,” she exclaimed as she slid into the back seat.

“Did you guys go looking for Robbie again today?” We did, Dan confirmed, turning to give her a warm smile.

Despite his growing unease with Mike, he’d always had a soft spot for Millie.

How was school? Boring, she declared.

But we have a math test tomorrow, and I’m totally going to ace it.

She leaned forward between the seats.

“Dad, can I still go to baseball practice after lunch? Coach Trent said we’re working on stealing bases today.

I promise I won’t be too tired to study for the test tonight.

Mike seemed distracted, his hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

When Millie repeated her question, he started slightly as if he’d forgotten she was there.

“Yes,” he said without much thought.

“You can go.

” “Thanks, Dad.

” Millie settled back in her seat, then launched into a detailed account of her day at school.

who said what to whom, which teacher assigned too much homework, and how the cafeteria had served pizza that was somehow both undercooked and burnt.

Dan listened, nodding, and asking questions in all the right places, but his mind was elsewhere.

He kept thinking about the inhaler in the coin compartment and the moment of hesitation on the forest slope.

As Milliey’s chatter wound down, Dan saw an opportunity to test a theory that had been forming in his mind.

So, Millie, he said casually, your dad mentioned you’ve been having some health issues.

Asthma, right? Milliey’s brow furrowed in confusion.

What? Mike quickly interjected.

Yeah, Millie.

That long bout of flu and bronchitis that turned into asthma.

It’s been 3 months, honey.

Millie looked uncertain.

Oh, yeah.

I think so, she said slowly.

The doctor gave me some kind of inhaler.

Dan watched her carefully.

Your dad said you like your inhaler cold.

Milliey’s confusion seemed to deepen.

Yeah, cold would be nice.

I can imagine it, she said, her tone suggesting she was trying to go along with something she didn’t fully understand.

Childhren, Mike said with a forced laugh.

They make up excuses and play with words when there’s no need to.

The car pulled into Mike’s driveway, and Dan felt a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air.

Milliey’s reactions confirmed what he’d begun to suspect.

The inhaler in the cooler wasn’t hers.

They all got out of the car, and Mike turned to Millie.

Go have your lunch and do your homework before practice.

Okay.

Okay, Dad, she agreed, heading for the house.

Mike turned to Dan.

I’ll be in the garage if you need anything.

Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.

Actually, I think I’ll head home, Dan said.

Thanks for taking me out today.

Are you feeling better? You seemed a bit off after that incident in the forest.

I’m good, Mike assured him.

Just a little tired.

My chest is fine now.

As Mike walked toward the garage to unload the car, Dan started to follow him to his own vehicle.

But before he could leave, Millie came running back out.

“Uncle Dan,” she whispered, tugging at his sleeve.

“You promised me that baseball card before, remember.

I think you keep forgetting about it.

” Dan looked down at her eager face.

“Baseball card?” “Yeah, of the famous team,” she prompted.

Sh.

If dad knew about me asking this from you, he would be mad at me for not being polite.

Dan remembered making that promise.

He had in fact promised Millie a while ago, but with the investigation and everything that followed, it kept slipping his mind.

“All right,” he chuckled, a little embarrassed.

“Sorry about that.

You know what? Just to make sure I don’t forget again, I’ll head home and grab it.

I’ll bring it to you before you leave for baseball practice.

How’s that sound? Milliey’s face lit up.

Really? You promise? I promise? Dan said, ruffling her hair.

Now go on, get inside and finish your lunch and homework like your dad said.

Millie grinned and raced back to the house, her energy infectious.

Dan watched her go, wondering about the stark contrast between her vibrant presence and the strange, tense behavior of her father.

As he drove home, Dan’s mind churned with a storm of conflicting thoughts.

Mike had been his rock, his steady support through the worst nine months of his life.

The idea that Mike could be hiding something, something connected to Robbiey’s disappearance felt absurd, even offensive.

Why would he stand by him all this time only to betray him? And yet the signs were there, whispering doubts he couldn’t ignore the inhaler.

Millie clearly didn’t recognize the hesitation on the forest slope, the sudden nervousness when questioned, and the attempt to bring a gun into the woods.

Small things perhaps when viewed individually, but together they formed a pattern that Dan couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.

Dan pulled into his driveway, his mind still churning with troubling thoughts about Mike’s behavior.

The house felt emptier than usual as he entered, a constant reminder of Robbiey’s absence.

He wandered into his son’s room, where everything remained exactly as it had been on the day he disappeared.

The baseball trophies on the shelf, the comics stacked on the desk, the unmade bed.

In the corner stood a bookshelf filled with Robbiey’s prized possessions, including a meticulously organized collection of baseball cards and protective sleeves.

Dan remembered Milliey’s request and decided to fulfill his supposed promise.

He picked out the card he had promised Millie, knowing she would treasure it and carefully placed it in a small protective case before slipping it into his pocket.

He drove back to Mike’s house, determined to keep his promise and hand the car to Millie before she left for her baseball practice.

As Dan pulled onto Mike’s street, he spotted Mike’s car leaving the driveway at high speed, disappearing around the corner before Dan could catch up.

He checked his watch.

It was too early for Milliey’s practice.

Where was Mike going? On impulse, he grabbed his phone and dialed Mike’s number.

The call rang once before going straight to voicemail.

Strange, Dan thought.

Mike always answered his phone.

Dan parked outside Mike’s house and approached the front door.

He knocked half expecting no response.

But to his surprise, Millie answered.

She looked different than she had earlier.

Deflated somehow, her earlier exuberance replaced by a quieter demeanor.

In her hand, she held an inhaler, but it looked nothing like the one Dan had found in the cooler.

This one was pink and circular, a dry powder inhaler, not the standard albuterol inhaler with a blue cap.

“Uncle Dan,” she said.

“I’m here to give you the baseball card, Millie,” Dan said, lingering on the porch.

He glanced around, noting the empty driveway.

“But I saw your dad leaving.

Is everything okay?” Millie nodded.

He said something came up suddenly.

Work.

He had to go to his woodworking studio to finish something.

Dan frowned.

Mike had seemed in no hurry to return to work earlier, and the sudden departure right after they’d returned from the forest search seemed suspicious.

I brought you this, Dan said, holding out the baseball card in its protective case.

The one I promised you.

Milliey’s face lit up.

Really? Thank you.

She took the card carefully, examining it with genuine appreciation.

“This is awesome, Uncle Dan.

” “I noticed you have an inhaler,” Dan said casually, nodding toward the pink device in her hand.

“Is that for your asthma?” “Yeah,” Millie said, holding it up.

“The doctor prescribed it for my chronic bronchitis and allergies.

I’ve been having flu and chest pain for the last 3 months after getting infected at school.

That’s tough.

Dan sympathized.

So, you never keep your inhaler in cold temperatures, like in a cooler box.

Millie looked confused.

No, why would I do that? I always keep it in my bag.

She tilted her head.

Why do you keep asking? Dan forced a smile.

Just curious.

Your dad mentioned something about how you like your inhaler cold, and I was wondering about it.

That’s weird,” Millie said, her brow furrowing.

“I’ve never told him that.

” Dan’s heart skipped a beat.

The pieces were falling into place, forming a picture he didn’t want to see.

“Do you need a ride to practice?” he offered, changing the subject.

“I’d be happy to take you.

” Millie shook her head.

“It’s okay.

I have a test tomorrow, so I should just rest.

I can study later in the evening.

” Dan hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving her alone.

“Are you sure?” “I don’t mind waiting until your dad gets back.

” “Uncle Dan, I’m 12,” Millie said with a hint of pre-teen exasperation.

“And you know, Dad has pretty much turned this place into Fort Knox with all the security stuff.

” “She wasn’t wrong.

Mike’s house was equipped with an advanced security system, another carryover from his police days.

All right, Dan concceeded.

But lock the door behind me.

Okay.

And call if you need anything at all.

I will, Millie promised.

Thanks again for the card.

As Millie closed the door, Dan heard the deadbolt slide into place.

He returned to his car, his mind racing.

The inhaler in the cooler wasn’t Milliey’s.

She had a completely different type.

Mike had lied about that and about her preference for keeping it cold.

Dan tried calling Mike again, but still no answer.

Something was very wrong, and he needed to find out what.

There was only one place Mike could have gone in such a hurry.

His woodworking studio on the outskirts of town.

The drive to the studio took 20 minutes, during which Dan’s mind conjured increasingly disturbing scenarios.

By the time he pulled up outside the large barn-like structure that housed Mike’s workshop, he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

Mike’s personal car was parked outside and his work van was halfway inside the workshop, its rear doors open.

Dan took a deep breath, stealing himself for whatever he might find inside.

Then he got out of his car and walked toward the workshop entrance, his footsteps heavy with dread.

The workshop was dimly lit, the smell of sawdust and varnish hanging in the air.

Dan stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the low light.

“Mike,” he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

“You in here?” There was no immediate response, but Dan could hear movement from the back of the workshop.

He moved forward cautiously, navigating around workbenches covered with tools and half-finished projects.

Then he saw him.

Mike was at the rear of the workshop, struggling to load something large and rectangular into the back of his van.

It took Dan a moment to register what he was seeing.

An unpolished wooden coffin.

“Mike,” Dan called again, causing his friend to whirl around, startled.

The change in Mike was immediate and alarming.

His normally composed demeanor vanished, replaced by a nervous tension that radiated from him like heat.

His hand moved instinctively to his pocket where his gun must be.

And for a terrible moment, Dan thought Mike might actually draw the weapon.

“Dan,” Mike said, his voice unnaturally high.

“What are you doing here?” “I went by your house,” Dan said cautiously, moving closer.

“Saw you driving away.

Thought I’d check if everything was okay.

” Mike’s eyes flicked nervously between Dan and the coffin.

Everything’s fine.

Just working on a rush order.

Client needs it by tomorrow, he said quickly.

Why’d you come back there? Just to give Millie a baseball card, I promised her, Dan replied, keeping his voice casual.

Dan approached the van, offering his help.

Let me give you a hand with that.

No, Mike’s response was sharp, his hand moving away from the coffin as if to shield it.

Don’t touch it.

Dan stopped.

his suspicion deepening.

In all the times he’d visited Mike’s workshop, he’d never seen him react this way.

Mike had always welcomed his help, his company.

“What’s going on, Mike?” Dan asked directly.

“You’ve been acting strange all day.

” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mike said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“The inhaler in the cooler,” Dan pressed.

“It’s not Milliey’s.

Hers is a completely different type.

Pink circular.

She says she’s never kept it cold either.

Mike’s hand moved back to his pocket, and this time Dan was certain he was reaching for his gun.

“You went to my house and questioned my daughter about her health.

” “What’s your game, Dan?” “I think you’re hiding something,” Dan continued, his heart pounding.

“You hesitated before helping me in the forest.

You brought a gun on our search.

You’ve been jumpy and secretive all day.

You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike repeated.

But there was a dangerous edge to his voice now.

Dan’s eyes moved to the coffin, a terrible suspicion forming in his mind.

Why were you in such a hurry to leave today? What are you loading into that van? Why did you lie about Milliey’s inhaler? Mike’s hand emerged from his pocket, holding the gun, its barrel now pointed directly at Dan.

Don’t push it, Dan.

I don’t want to do this.

Dan felt a cold wave of fear wash over him, but beneath it was a growing rage.

“The inhaler in the cooler,” he said slowly.

“It’s Robbie’s, isn’t it?” Mike didn’t answer, but his silence was confirmation enough.

Dan’s eyes shifted to the coffin.

“Open it,” he demanded.

“Let me see what’s inside.

” “It’s for my customer,” Mike said again, his finger tensing on the trigger.

“Leave here, Dan.

” “We’re best friends, Mike,” Dan said, his voice breaking.

“You won’t shoot me, will you? Just open the coffin and let me see.

” For a moment, it seemed like Mike might lower the gun.

Then with a sudden movement, he squeezed the trigger.

Dan reacted instinctively, lunging to the side and striking Mike’s arm.

The gun discharged, the bullet embedding itself in a nearby workbench.

The impact sent the weapon skittering across the floor.

Mike dove for the gun, but Dan blocked his path, tackling him to the ground.

They struggled on the dusty workshop floor, years of friendship forgotten in the desperate fight.

What the? Dan stammered, shocked.

Why? He demanded as they struggled.

Why would you do this? Where’s my son? Mike’s face contorted with a combination of rage and something else.

Envy, perhaps.

I always envied you, he spat.

I wanted a son with my wife, but she gave me a daughter instead.

A daughter who loves you, Dan shot back.

She cheated on me,” Mike continued as if Dan hadn’t spoken.

While I worked night shifts as a police officer, protecting people who didn’t deserve to be saved, rescued, or protected.

Mike managed to grab a heavy woodworking tool from a nearby bench, and swung it wildly at Dan, who barely managed to dodge the blow.

The tool crashed into a stack of lumber, sending it toppling.

That doesn’t explain why you took my son, Dan said, circling cautiously as Mike readied for another attack.

I never wanted a daughter, Mike shouted, his face contorted with rage.

Always wanted a son to carry on my name, to teach baseball to to make into a man.

He charged at Dan again, the tool raised high, but Dan sidstepped, watching as Mike’s momentum carried him into a workbench.

Mike, stop it.

Just tell me.

Robbie’s in that coffin, isn’t he? Dan demanded.

You were going to move him because I started asking questions after I found that inhaler in the cooler.

Mike’s laugh was hollow.

I should have let you fall in that forest, he said.

Should have pushed you off instead of pulling you up.

He attacked again, swinging the heavy tool with deadly intent.

This time he came perilously close, the edge of the tool grazing Dan’s shoulder.

Dan stumbled backward, his hand brushing against something on the floor, the gun.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed it, raised it, and fired a warning shot into the ceiling.

The sound was deafening in the enclosed space.

Mike froze, the tool still raised above his head.

“Drop it!” Dan commanded, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Drop it now, Mike.

For a moment, it seemed like Mike might comply.

Then, with a roar of fury, he charged forward, the tool swinging toward Dan’s head.

Dan had no choice.

He fired again, this time aiming low.

The bullet struck Mike in the leg, and he collapsed with a howl of pain, the tool clattering to the floor beside him.

Dan kicked the tool away, then kept the gun trained on Mike as he backed toward the phone on the wall.

With his free hand, he dialed 911.

“This is Dan Hartman,” he said when the operator answered.

“I need police and an ambulance at Lacader Woodworking Studio.

Immediately, I’ve shot a man who I believe kidnapped my son 9 months ago.

” He gave the address, then hung up, his attention returning to Mike, who was clutching his wounded leg, his face pale with shock and pain.

“Where is he?” Dan demanded, moving closer.

Where’s Robbie? Mike said nothing, his eyes filled with hatred.

Dan moved to the van and with one hand still holding the gun, used the other to push open the lid of the coffin.

What he saw inside made his heart stop.

Robbie lay there still and pale, but his chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He appeared to be drugged, but alive.

“Dan nearly collapsed with relief.

” Robbie,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his son’s face.

“I found you.

” In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder as they approached the workshop.

Dan kept the gun pointed at Mike while he waited, standing protectively beside the coffin that contained his son.

Alive against all odds after nine long months, the workshop erupted into a flurry of activity as police officers swarmed in.

weapons drawn.

Dan immediately raised his hands, the gun dangling from his index finger.

“He’s in the coffin,” Dan said urgently to the first officer who approached.

“My son, he’s alive, but drugged, and that man on the floor kidnapped him 9 months ago.

” “Put the weapon down, sir,” the officer commanded, and Dan complied, carefully placing the gun on the floor.

“Please check my son first,” Dan pleaded.

The officer gave a quick nod to his colleagues and several of them moved to the coffin while others secured Mike who was still clutching his wounded leg.

“He’s breathing,” one of the officers called out after examining Robbie.

“Call the paramedics in now.

” Moments later, EMTs rushed into the workshop, moving quickly to assess both Robbie and Mike.

Dan watched anxiously as they gently transferred his son from the crude coffin to a stretcher, checking his vitals and administering emergency care.

“How is he?” Dan asked, staying close to the stretcher.

“Stable,” one of the paramedics replied.

“Appears to be under heavy sedation, but his breathing and heart rate are good.

We’ll know more once we get him to the hospital.

” Meanwhile, other paramedics were attending to Mike, stabilizing his leg wound before loading him onto a second stretcher.

As they prepared to take him to the ambulance, a detective approached Dan.

Mr.

Hartman, I’m Detective Reynolds.

I need a brief statement about what happened here.

Dan nodded, his eyes never leaving the stretcher that held his son.

That man is Mike Lacader.

He was my best friend, my son’s baseball coach, and a former NYPD officer.

He kidnapped my son, Robbie, nine months ago from the Gardener ballfield.

Today, I found my son’s asthma inhaler in Mike’s cooler, which led me to suspect him.

When I came here to confront him, I found him loading that coffin into his van.

He pulled a gun on me.

We struggled, and I shot him in self-defense.

The detective took notes, nodding grimly.

And the boy in the coffin is definitely your son? Yes, Dan confirmed.

Robert Hartman.

He’s been missing for 9 months.

We’re going to need a full statement later, the detective said.

But for now, you should go with your son to the hospital.

Officer Daniels will accompany you.

As the paramedics wheeled Robbie toward the door, Dan suddenly remembered Millie.

Wait, he called to the detective.

Lacader has a daughter, Millie.

She’s 12, alone at their house.

Someone needs to check on her.

The detective nodded.

We’ll send child protective services immediately.

Where’s the address? Dan provided Mike’s home address, then added, I’d like to be there when they talk to her.

She knows me, trusts me.

This is going to be devastating for her.

She has no idea what her father did.

We’ll arrange it, the detective promised.

Go with your son now.

We’ll contact you about the girl.

Dan followed the paramedics outside where two ambulances waited.

He climbed into the one carrying Robbie, taking a seat beside the stretcher and gently holding his son’s hand.

After nine agonizing months, he couldn’t bear to let go.

At the hospital, Robbie was rushed into the emergency department for immediate assessment.

Dan was directed to a waiting area where he paced anxiously until a doctor finally emerged to speak with him.

Mr.

Hartman, I’m Dr.

Lana.

Your son is stable and responding well.

He was heavily sedated with a combination of drugs, but we’re managing that.

He has some signs of malnutrition and mild dehydration, but no critical injuries.

We’ll keep him under observation overnight, but I’m cautiously optimistic about his recovery.

Dan felt tears of relief spring to his eyes.

Can I see him in a few minutes? The doctor assured him.

The nurses are setting him up in a room now.

He briefly regained consciousness earlier and asked for you before falling asleep again.

While waiting to see Robbie, Dan received a call from Detective Reynolds, who informed him that child protective services had arrived at the Lacader home and were with Millie.

If Dan wanted to be present when they explained the situation to her, a police officer could drive him there now and then return him to the hospital afterward.

Dan hesitated, torn between staying with Robbie and helping Millie through what would surely be a traumatic revelation.

After confirming with the nurses that Robbie would likely sleep for several more hours, he decided to go to Millie.

The ride to the Lacier home was silent.

Dan lost in thought about how quickly his world had transformed in just one day.

When they arrived, a CPS worker was sitting with Millie in the living room while police officers searched the house.

“Uncle Dan,” Millie exclaimed when she saw him jumping up from the couch.

“What’s going on? Why are all these people here? Where’s my dad?” Dan sat down beside her, taking her small hands in his.

With the CPS worker’s support, he gently explained that her father had done something very wrong, that he had taken Robbie 9 months ago and kept him hidden all this time.

Milliey’s reaction was one of disbelief, then confusion, and finally heart-wrenching sobs.

“No,” she kept saying.

“Not my dad.

He wouldn’t do that.

I never saw him with Robbie.

” I’m so sorry, Millie,” Dan said, holding her as she cried.

“I know this is impossible to understand.

” After some time, when Millie had calmed somewhat, the CPS worker explained that she would need to stay with a temporary foster family while the authorities sorted everything out.

“No,” Millie said firmly, clinging to Dan.

“I want to stay with Uncle Dan.

” “Please.

” Dan looked at the CPS worker.

Is that possible? I’ve known Millie since she was a baby.

Her father may have done something terrible, but she’s innocent in all this.

I’d like to take care of her, at least temporarily.

The CPS worker hesitated.

It’s not the usual procedure, but given the circumstances, and if Millie is comfortable with the arrangement, I could try to bring this up and see if we can potentially set up an emergency placement.

You’d need to undergo a quick background check and home assessment, but I need to remind you, sir.

There’s no guarantee that this will be approved.

I understand, Dan said.

Whatever needs to be done.

Millie looked up at him, her eyes red from crying.

Please, Uncle Dan, don’t leave me alone.

I’m scared and I want to be with you and Robbie.

She paused, then asked, her voice trembling.

And how about Robbie? Is he okay? He’s at the hospital, Dan told her.

The doctors say he’ll be fine.

And yes, you can see him when he’s ready for visitors.

I’d like that, Millie said quietly.

After completing some preliminary paperwork with CPS and ensuring that Millie packed essential items, Dan and Millie were driven back to the hospital.

They were escorted to a private family waiting room where a detective was waiting to take Dan’s full statement.

Dan recounted everything in detail from finding the inhaler in the cooler to the confrontation at the workshop.

The detective informed him that Mike was stable after surgery and was under police guard at a different hospital.

He had refused to speak about his actions, but the evidence against him was overwhelming.

We found recordings on his phone, the detective revealed.

CCTV footage from cameras he had set up in the basement of his workshop.

It appears he kept your son there in a soundproofed room with a hidden entrance.

That’s why I never heard anything when I visited, Dan realized, his stomach turning.

Can I see this footage? The detective closed his eyes, his expression grim.

We can show you at the station, but not here.

He glanced at Millie, then back to Dan, his tone softening slightly.

Dan swallowed hard.

What’s in the footage? I need to know, detective, please.

The detective took a deep breath before speaking.

He motioned for Dan to follow and walked him to the other side of the room.

I need to warn you, Mr.

Hartman.

The details are deeply disturbing.

It shows Lacader forcing your son to train baseball with him in the workshop basement, physically punishing him for mistakes and trying to make him say that Lacier was his father.

When your son refused, Mr.

Lacader coerced him into inappropriate actions.

Dan closed his eyes, overcome with horror at what his son had endured.

And when Robbie had asthma attacks, Lacader would withhold his inhaler as punishment, only giving it to him after he admitted that he is his father.

The detective confirmed.

“It’s all documented.

We have more than enough evidence to ensure he never sees the outside of a prison again.

” “But how did he even take Robbie that day?” Dan asked, still struggling to understand how it had happened right under his nose.

There were people everywhere after the game.

The detective consulted his notes based on our investigation and some partial confessions from Lacader.

We’ve pieced together what happened that day.

After the baseball game, while most parents were distracted packing up or chatting, Coach Lacader stayed behind under the excuse of cleaning up equipment.

He lured Robbie into the dugout, asked him to change, and help load the bats into the team bag.

Dan’s face pald as the detective continued.

When no one was looking, he sedated the boy with a chloroform soaked handkerchief.

Once Robbie passed out, Lacier put him into the large equipment bag instead of the bats, zipped it up, and wheeled it across the field to his truck.

And nobody noticed, Dan whispered in disbelief.

No one paid attention because people were used to seeing him dragging his big equipment bags after games.

It was normal behavior for him.

Once at his car, he lifted the bag into the trunk, casually said goodbye to you while you were still talking with other parents, and drove off.

Dan slumped in his chair.

“All this time, I thought Robbie was in the changing room.

When he didn’t come out, I started looking for him.

” Lacader had planned this meticulously, the detective said.

With his background as a former police officer, he knew exactly how to execute a crime without raising suspicion.

He observed patterns, studied routines, and chose the perfect moment to act.

He’s always been my friend, but right now, I can’t help but wish he ends up behind bars for a long time.

He needs to atone for what he did to my son, to me.

No wonder he kept asking to go on those searches for my son in faroff places when all this time he was keeping Robbie in his workshop basement.

After completing his statement, Dan was finally allowed to see Robbie.

With Millie waiting in the family room with a social worker, Dan entered his son’s hospital room, his heart pounding.

Robbie lay in the bed, looking small and fragile beneath the white sheets.

His face was pale but peaceful in sleep.

Dan approached quietly, taking a seat beside the bed and gently holding his son’s hand.

“I’m here, Robbie,” he whispered.

I found you.

You’re safe now.

As if hearing his father’s voice, Robbie stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

For a moment, he seemed confused.

Then recognition dawned.

Dad, he whispered, his voice.

“Yes, buddy.

It’s me,” Dan said, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m here.

” Robbie’s eyes filled with tears, too.

“You found me.

” I never stopped looking, Dan promised, squeezing his hand gently.

Not for one day.

Robbie drifted back to sleep, the medication still in his system, but his hand remained firmly wrapped around his father’s.

Dan sat there, watching his son breathe, hardly daring to believe that the nightmare was finally over.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention.

It was Millie standing hesitantly in the doorway with the social worker behind her.

“Can I come in?” she asked timidly.

Dan nodded, waving her over.

“He’s sleeping now, but you can sit with us if you want.

” Millie approached the bed cautiously, her eyes wide as she took in Robbie’s appearance.

“Is he going to be okay?” “Yes,” Dan assured her.

“The doctors say he’ll recover.

It might take some time, but he’s strong.

Millie sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry for what my dad did,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes again.

“I didn’t know.

I swear I didn’t know.

” “Of course you didn’t,” Dan said firmly.

“None of this is your fault, Millie.

Not one bit.

” As they sat there, Dan, Millie, and the sleeping Robbie, Dan reflected on the twisted path that had led them to this moment.

His best friend had betrayed him in the most horrific way imaginable, stealing his son and subjecting him to months of abuse.

Yet here in this hospital room, there was also the beginning of healing.

Dan looked at Millie, who was watching Robbie with a mixture of sadness and relief.

She was as much a victim as Robbie in many ways.

Her life shattered by her father’s actions.

Dan made a silent promise to himself that he would care for her with the same love and patience he gave his own son.

Mike’s cruelty would not be repaid with more cruelty.

Instead, Dan would extend the grace that Mike had been incapable of showing.

“Are you hungry?” he asked Millie after a while.

we could go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.

” Millie nodded, standing up.

As they walked to the door, she looked back at Robbie.

“Will he be okay while we’re gone?” “Yes,” Dan assured her.

“The nurses are keeping a close eye on him, and we won’t be gone long.

” As they left the room, Dan placed a gentle hand on Milliey’s shoulder, guiding her toward the elevator.

The road ahead would be difficult.

recovery for Robbie, adjustment for Millie, and the painful process of legal proceedings for all of them.

But for the first time in 9 months, Dan felt something like hope.

His son was alive, and that was enough to face whatever came next.