The call came in on a Thursday night, swallowed by the sound of rain hammering the dispatch center.

Inside the dim mill, a weak, shallow breath stirred the dust.

Andrew Vance was severely hypothermic, his right leg immobilized by a crude splint he had fashioned out of broken pine branches and his torn shirt straps. For four long days and freezing nights, trapped inside the padlocked mill without food or water, he had held onto life by a single thread—the memory of his daughter's smile.

"Ash... ley..." Andrew’s cracked lips barely formed the words as he heard the banging on the outer wall.

"Breach the door!" Officer Natalie commanded outside.

Two officers brought up a heavy battering ram. With three powerful impacts, the wooden frame splintered, and the heavy doors burst open, letting stream of morning sunlight into the gloomy cavern.

Natalie rushed inside, kneeling beside Andrew’s shivering body. She checked his pulse—it was weak, rapid, but undeniably present.

"We found you, Andrew," Natalie whispered, throwing a thermal space blanket over his shivering frame. "You’re safe now."

Andrew’s glassy eyes slowly focused on Natalie’s police badge. With immense effort, his trembling hand reached out, clutching Natalie’s sleeve.

"My... daughter..." he rasped, his voice a dry, agonizing rasp. "Ashley... her medicine... insulin..."

"She has her medicine," Natalie declared, tears pricking her eyes as she leaned down close to him. "She’s at Saint Jude’s Hospital right now. She’s safe, Andrew. She ate, her doctors are caring for her, and she’s waiting for you."

Tears trickled down Andrew’s dirt-streaked, hollow cheeks. A long, shuddering sigh of pure relief escaped his chest, and his body relaxed for the first time in ninety-six harrowing hours.