Thirty-OneDoug put the kettle on, looking at the clock on the wall for the tenth time since he'd entered the kitchen. It was just after seven in the morning. Darkness still pressed against the kitchen window as he stared out at his son's driveway. “Come on Son. Where are you?” He knew something was wrong. If Jake had made it back through the doorway he'd be home by now. Doug hoped in vain that he'd fallen asleep at a service station. He'd tried Jake's phone, being told that the number was unreachable by an automated voice. Again, he'd hoped that his son's phone had died on him. Doug was starting to clutch at straws. Movement upstairs told him that Katherine was awake. He pulled another mug from the cupboard, putting sugar and a teabag into it before filling both mugs with steaming water. H
