Former physician disappeared on Mount Rainier, four years on the revelation stunned everybody

We still miss him so much here. Well, those of us who are left, anyway. The police think he went off trail deliberately.

They’re suggesting suicide or that he got lost. Charlotte’s voice caught. But you knew Robert.

He would never, never, Sarah agreed firmly. Charlotte, your husband loved his work, loved his patience. His retirement shocked all of us because he seemed so passionate right up until the end.

The patients adored him. Mrs. Yamamoto still asks about him every time she comes in. Charlotte leaned forward.

The GPS showed him miles from any marked trail. The police think that proves he wanted to, to disappear. But Robert was so careful about hiking safety.

Sarah’s expression shifted subtly, something flickering in her eyes. She glanced toward the door, then back to Charlotte. You know, now that you mention it, Robert did seem different that final week.

Different how? Anxious, distracted. He kept checking his phone constantly, which wasn’t like him at all. During procedures, he was still completely focused.

He’d never compromise patient care. But between appointments, he seemed worried. Charlotte felt her pulse quicken.

Did he say anything? I asked him during lunch break on that Wednesday. I remember specifically because he was sitting right where you are now, and his sandwich was untouched. That wasn’t like Robert.

He always ate heartily. Sarah’s voice dropped. I asked if he was okay, if retirement nerves were getting to him.

He gave me this forced smile and said he had a lot to wrap up before retirement. That sounds reasonable enough. It wasn’t what he said, Charlotte.

It was how he said it. His hands were shaking slightly when he picked up his coffee cup. In 15 years of working alongside him through emergency surgeries and difficult diagnoses, I’d never seen Robert’s hands shake.

The break room suddenly felt smaller. The fluorescent lights too bright. Was there anything else unusual that week? Sarah stood and quietly closed the break room door, then returned to her seat.

Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. This is probably nothing, and I’ve never mentioned it to anyone before. But Dr. Harrison’s behavior that week was strange.

Harrison? Charlotte pictured Robert’s boss, tall, distinguished, with silver hair and an easy smile. They’d had dinner together several times over the years, Harrison and his wife Patricia joining them for celebrations and holiday parties. He wouldn’t let anyone help with Robert’s patient transitions.

Usually, when a doctor leaves, the whole team pitches in to transfer files, update records, reassign patients. It’s a massive undertaking. But Harrison insisted on handling everything himself.

Maybe he wanted to personally ensure continuity of care? Sarah shook her head. That’s what I thought at first. But Charlotte, he was here until midnight several nights that week.

I know because I forgot my car keys one evening and came back around 11. His office light was still on, and I could see boxes and boxes of files. The strange thing is, he took them all home instead of storing them in our records room.

Charlotte felt a chill run down her spine. Robert never mentioned Harrison was acting oddly. That’s the thing.

Harrison was perfectly normal during the day. Cheerful, supportive, throwing Robert that beautiful retirement party. But after hours, Sarah trailed off, shaking her head.

I’m probably reading too much into it. Grief makes us look for explanations where there aren’t any. You said Harrison took the files home.

Were they ever returned? I honestly don’t know. By the time I thought to ask, the practice had been sold. Harrison made a fortune on that sale, from what I heard.

He opened a new, much larger practice across town. Multi-specialty, state-of-the-art equipment. He’s doing very well.

Charlotte remembered Harrison’s modest practice from before. Comfortable, but certainly not lavish. That seems like quite an expansion.

He’s got investors now, apparently. There was an article in the medical journal about his innovative billing practices and practice management. He’s speaking at conferences about maximizing health care profits.

Sarah’s tone carried a hint of disapproval. Very different from the Harrison who used to say patient care came first. The break room door opened and Brandon peered in.

Sarah, your two o’clock is here. Sarah squeezed Charlotte’s hands. I’m so sorry about the backpack.

If you need anything, anything at all, please call me. She paused at the door. Charlotte, I know the police have their theories, but I knew Robert.

Whatever happened on that mountain, it wasn’t because he wanted to leave you. He talked about your retirement plans constantly. The Alaska cruise, teaching your grandson to fish.

He was counting down the days. After Sarah left, Charlotte sat alone in the break room for a few more minutes, processing what she’d learned. Robert anxious and distracted.

Harrison working late, taking files home. The successful practice sale and expansion. None of it necessarily meant anything, but combined with the GPS data showing Robert far off trail.

She thought about all those dinners with Harrison and Patricia. The easy laughter, the war stories from medical school. Harrison had given a beautiful eulogy at Robert’s memorial service, speaking about integrity and dedication.

He’d held Charlotte while she cried, promised to help any way he could. But now, Sarah’s words echoed. Very unusual for a boss to do the grunt work.

What had happened in Robert’s final week? What had made his steady hands shake? Charlotte gathered her purse and left the break room, nodding goodbye to the receptionist who was already focused on other tasks. Other lives moving forward while hers remained frozen four years in the past. But now, for the first time, she wondered if the past held secrets she’d never suspected…