After breakfast, Nolan's phone rings. The caller ID makes him look focused, a little tight-lipped.

"I'm going to take this," he says quietly as he moves toward the door and steps outside, leaving the door closed. His voice fades, becoming a soft murmur.

With Nolan gone, I pick up my phone to see if Carlson has messaged me anything at all. Nothing comes through. I check again and again out of habit.

Still no replies from Carlson.

I type quickly in our chat: "Carlson, are you okay? Have you ...