The gravel absorbed the sound of their departure.
I should have felt relieved. I felt alert instead, because I knew my father. He did not accept conclusions. He treated them as opening positions.
The next morning I drove to the lake house.
The road curved through pine trees, the lake visible between branches in silver flashes. When I arrived and pulled to a stop, the first thing I registered was the front door. It was slightly open.
I sat in the car for a moment with my hands on the steering wheel.
I had locked everything remotely. Changed the codes. Reset the system. The cameras had been active when I went to sleep.
I checked the camera feed on my phone before getting out of the car.
Every camera showed the same status: disconnected at 3:17 a.m.
