I would have given anything to be irritated by something that small.

No threats, no weapons, no drama.

Just truth.

They found a neighbor’s doorbell camera facing the driveway.

They found tire marks where Maya had stumbled barefoot toward the street.

They found blood near the edge of the concrete, badly washed but still visible beneath porch light glare.

They found a broken watch strap in the flower bed.

It was Maya’s watch—the one I had bought her for her birthday.