He was barefoot in his gray dinosaur pajamas, his little feet scraping along the damp bricks.

“What’s she doing?” Clay asked, his deep voice dropping lower.

“Look at the date stamp, Clay.

Think about where you were that night.”

He bent forward and planted both palms flat on the oak desktop.

In the video, Benji tripped near the bottom step.

Jaclyn didn’t slow down or pick him up.

She yanked his arm and hauled him across the grass toward the shadowy corner behind the garage.