When my daughter Jane unexpectedly asked me to watch my grandson, Tommy, for “a couple of weeks,” I thought nothing of it at first. Jane was always full of surprises, and her last-minute visits weren’t new. But this time felt different—and I couldn’t ignore it.
She arrived on a Saturday, suitcase in hand, and that familiar tired smile on her face. “It’s just a work trip,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.” I believed her. Or at least, I wanted to.
As the day went on, Tommy kept me busy with his energy and curiosity. But later that evening, after he spilled juice during dinner, I opened his suitcase to grab some clean clothes—and that’s when I realized something was off.
Inside the suitcase were clothes for all seasons: sweaters, coats, rain boots, even allergy medication and his inhaler. It was clear this wasn’t packed for just two weeks. At the very bottom, I found a sealed envelope with my name on it and a large sum of cash inside.
My heart sank. What was Jane not telling me?
I called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again the next day. Still nothing. I reached out to her job, her friends, even her old roommate—no one had seen her. It was like she had vanished.
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