No answer.
Our neighborhood looked offensively normal when I turned onto our street.
My front door was closed.
I ran up the porch steps and grabbed the handle.
Locked.
My front door was closed.
The deadbolt was still engaged.
That frightened me more.
If nobody had broken in through the door, how had that man gotten inside?
I shoved my key into the lock.
“Toby!”
Footsteps pounded down the hallway.
My son appeared wearing dinosaur socks and the same green T-shirt from the selfie.
If nobody had broken in through the door, how had that man gotten inside?
“Mom?”
I dropped to my knees and grabbed him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Did somebody come inside?”
The look in his eyes wasn’t fear anymore.
It was pure guilt.
I stood so quickly my knee cracked against the entry table.
“Toby. Who is in the house?”
“Did somebody come inside?”
He looked toward the living room.
