I hurried down the stairs, checking the locks on the patio door, the garage entrance, and every single first-floor window.

My laptop computer still sat openly on the laminate kitchen counter, and the television remained untouched on its wooden stand.

Owen’s expensive power tools hung undisturbed on the garage pegboard, proving that no thief had broken in through the doors.

Only the beloved sunburst electric guitar had vanished from the premises without leaving a single trace behind.

I paced the kitchen tiles until half past three, checking the wall clock every thirty seconds while waiting for the school bus.

When the heavy front door finally swung open, Noah’s backpack dropped to the floorboards with its familiar heavy thud.