it.
“May I look at your phone?” I asked.
His hesitation lasted only a second.
“Of course.”
There were no hidden applications.
No suspicious calls. No unknown contacts.
Then I noticed a notification from the security system.
“You installed cameras?”
“After someone broke into the garage last year.”
“Where are they?”
“Front porch, driveway, and back door.”
I opened the application.
The footage from the previous evening showed my father returning home alone. He went inside at 10:17 p.m.
A few minutes later, someone crossed the edge of the driveway.
The figure wore a hood and kept their face turned away.
My pulse quickened.
“Who is that?”
My father leaned closer.
“I do not know.”
The person stopped near his car, then disappeared from view.
I rewound the recording.
This time, I noticed the shoes.
White sneakers with a dark stripe along the side.
I had seen them
