“We should call the police.”
“I’ve already told Rachel we should.”
“Then why are you here?”
I looked him in the face.
“Because whoever sent it knew personal details about her. I also knew when I called.”
My father stared at me.
“Do you think it was me?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
He dropped on the couch.
For a moment, it seemed much older than the day before.
“I would never hurt him.”
“Well, help me understand.”
He rubbed his palms against his knees.
“I can’t.”
I went through the house while he was watching me. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. The kitchen was clean. His laptop was on the dining table. His phone was lying next to him.
“Can I take a look at your phone?” I asked.
His hesitation lasted only a second.
“Sure.”
There was no hidden application.
No suspicious calls. No unknown contacts.
Then I looked at a security system notification.
“Have you installed cameras?”
“After someone went in to steal in the garage last year.”
“Where are they?”
“On the front porch, at the entrance and at the back door.”
I opened the app.
The footage from the night before showed my father coming home alone. He entered at 10:17 p-m.
A few minutes later, someone crossed the edge of the driveway.
The person was wearing a hood and keeping his face on his side.
My pulse has accelerated.
“Who is that?”
My father leaned over to me.
“I don’t know.”
The person stopped near his car and then disappeared from our sight.
I rewound the recording.
This time, I noticed the shoes.
White sneakers with a dark stripe on the side.
I’ve seen them before.
Not recently, but enough to remember them.
My father looked at me.
“Lola?”
I closed the app.
“I have to check something.”
I drove home and pulled an old box out of my closet. Inside were photos, birthday cards and papers that had been Mom’s.
In the background, I found a picture of his last summer.
My aunt Sabrina was by her side, smiling at the camera.
He was wearing the same white shoes.
Sabrina was my mother’s younger sister.
When my mother died, she helped my father with everything. He cooked, took care of the paperwork and stayed with him when I went back to college.
Then he walked away from us.
He said it hurt too much to go to the house.
I believed him.
I called Rachel.
“Do you remember meeting my Aunt Sabrina?”
“Once, at your prom.”
“Did you tell him about Graham?”
Rachel was silent.
“Yes. He found me crying in the bathroom. I told him everything.”
The last piece fit in place.
Sabrina knew Rachel’s secret. I knew my father’s schedule. I knew my habits. In addition, he had had access to the house for years.
I drove to his apartment before I was spoiled in value.
He opened the door in sportswear.
His white sneakers were by the entrance.
When I showed him the camera footage, he turned pale.
“You followed Rachel,” I said.
Sabrina took a step back.
“Lola, you don’t understand.”
“Well, explain to me.”
His gaze hardened.
“Your father was supposed to love your mother forever.”
“And he did.”
“No. He wants to replace it.”
“He spent twelve years alone.”
“And that makes dating others acceptable?”
He raised his voice.
“Your mother gave it her all. And then he smiled at strangers as if she never existed.”
I felt the anger mix with my pain.
“You threatened six women.”
“I warned them.”
“You terrorized them.”
“I protected your mother’s place in her life.”
“You didn’t protect anything.”
