The cashier was reaching for my jar of pasta sauce when Toby’s selfie appeared. He wore the goofy grin he used whenever he wanted me to stop worrying. Then I enlarged the picture and noticed one detail behind him that should not have been inside our locked house. When I called him, he didn’t answer.
“Toby?”
No answer.
I called again while abandoning my basket beside the grocery checkout.
Straight to voicemail.
I noticed one detail behind him.
Before I’d left, I’d told Toby I’d be back in 20 minutes. He’d locked the front door behind me, and I’d heard the deadbolt slide into place before I reached the porch steps.
Now a man appeared to be sitting in Julian’s chair.
Inside my house.
With my son.
A man appeared to be sitting in Julian’s chair.
***
I drove home so fast my purse tipped over on the passenger seat.
I called Toby again.
