John Stewart, a deputy at the Florida State Police Department, had a ritual that was his morning sanctuary before the chaos of the day took over: stopping at a local coffee shop. It was more than just coffee and a bagel; it was an anchor, a moment of peace in an otherwise hectic schedule.
But one seemingly ordinary visit changed everything. He found himself captivated by a mother and her son, their subtle actions catching his attention. There was something amiss, something beneath the surface that piqued his trained instincts.
The boy’s chatter and the mother’s strained expressions formed a narrative that didn’t quite align. Stewart’s gut feeling, though infrequent, signaled trouble on the horizon. Despite his reservations, he carried on with his routine, a nagging sense of foreboding tagging along.