On the contrary, I remembered how defensive he became when I questioned him about his dates.
I left Rachel in front of her office and went straight to my father's house.
He replied wearing an old sweatshirt and slippers.
Her hair was messy and dark circles marked her eyes.
"Rachel didn't answer me," he said. "Did I do something wrong?"
The pain in her voice seemed genuine.
Without answering, I went in.
He followed me into the living room.
"Lola, what happened?"
"Someone threatened her."
His face froze.
"What?"
I showed him the messages.
He read them slowly, one by one, his expression shifting from confusion to fear.
"Did this happen after our appointment?"
"Yes."
He gave her back the phone.
"We should call the police."
"I already told Rachel we should do it."
"So why are you here?"
I studied it carefully.
"Because the sender knew personal details about her. He also knew when I had called."
He was staring at me.
"Do you think I did this?"
"I don't know what to think."
He slowly sank down onto the sofa.
For a moment, he looked much older than the day before.
"I would never hurt her."
"So help me understand."
He rubbed his hands on his knees.
"I can't."
Under his watchful eye, I searched the house.
Everything seemed ordinary.
The food was spotless.
His laptop was sitting on the dining table.
His phone was lying next to him.
"Can I look at your phone?" I asked.
He hesitated for only a moment.
"Of course."
There were no hidden applications.
No suspicious calls.
No unknown contacts.
I then noticed a notification from his home security system.
"Have you installed cameras?"
"After someone broke into the garage last year."
" Where are they ? "
"Entrance porch, driveway, and back door."
I opened the application.
The images showed my father returning home alone at 10:17 PM.
He entered.
A few minutes later, someone stepped forward onto the edge of the driveway.
The person was wearing a hood and kept their face turned away.
My pulse quickened.
" Who is it ? "
My father leaned closer.
"I don't know."
The figure paused for a moment near his car before disappearing from sight.
I rewatched the video.
This time, I focused on the shoes.
White sneakers with a dark stripe on the side.
I had already seen them.
Not recently, but often enough to remember.
My father looked at me.
"Lola?"
I closed the application.
"I need to check something."
I drove home and took an old storage box out of my closet.
Inside were photos, birthday cards and papers that had belonged to Mom.
At the very bottom was a photo from her last summer.
Next to her stood my aunt Sabrina.
Sabrina was wearing the same white sneakers.
She was my mother's younger sister.
