The timeline made a straight, unbroken line of deliberate choices.

He had planned every step and counted on my trust to hide his tracks.

My phone buzzed against the wood veneer.

Claire’s name lit up the screen.

“He left the house at eight fifteen,” Claire said.

“My private server watched him climb into a drywall supplier’s van.”

“Did he leave the truck in the driveway?” I asked.

“It’s parked exactly where he left it last night,” Claire said.