I repeated the conversation word for word.

“Where is Danny now?”

“I don’t know. He sounded terrified.”

“When did you last see him?”

“Sunday dinner. Three days ago. He seemed fine then.” But even as I said it, I wondered. Had he seemed normal, or had I been too caught up in the usual family chaos to notice? Sunday dinners had become tense. My son, Robert, and his wife, Vanessa, had been pushing me to sell the farm and move into a retirement community.