Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about that time. It was ten years ago, yet he couldn’t forget. At the time he didn’t understand the depth of the situation, but when he had gone to school days and weeks and years after and he didn’t see them, he wouldn’t be able to forget. That’s why he snuck out that night. November tenth. He didn’t want to leave, he loved his family and his mom was hosting the Thanksgiving dinner that year. But he couldn’t wait. He was worried he’d forget.

Olver had found a hint to where they might be. Because though the kidnapping ten years ago was now a dead case, Oliver’s dad was still trying to figure out who the kidnapper was and where they are. He had reason to belive Oliver’s old friends weren’t dead. And now he had a lead on the location. Why the location happened to be in Maine when the lived in Connecticut, Oliver did not know. But Oliver had learned not to question the FBI. So instead he left a note to his mother and took a seven hour bus ride to Maine.

Never once on that had he checked the texts from his father and never once did he stop thinking about that day. That fateful day when two friends were kidnapped. Kidnapped from a mother who had left Tim’s dad only two years after he disappeared. Kidnapped from Jimmy’s gambling father and an alcoholic mother. Maybe it was for the best.

No. 

If Oliver thought like that he wouldn’t be able to rescue them. He wouldn’t be able to find that woman. He wouldn’t be able to leave his family to do this.



He didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He had to leave.