The veins on the backs of his hands stood out blue under the desk lamp.

“She told me he locked himself out one time by accident,” Clay whispered.

“She said he ran out into the yard while she was taking out the trash.”

“That one was Tuesday the eighteenth,” I said.

I clicked into the next folder on the drive and picked October twenty-second, four days later.

The time stamp in the bottom right corner said one fifteen a.m.

The infrared camera caught Jaclyn opening the back porch door once more.