Bennett didn’t speak for two full seconds. Then: “Do not call Michael. Do not open the drive on a personal computer. I’m coming now.”

That was when fear fully arrived. Not grief. Not memory. Present fear — the kind that locks windows and checks driveways.

I looked through the front curtains. Across the street, a black pickup idled under the old maple. I’d seen it before. Not every day. Enough.

Sophie saw my face. “Mom?”

I pulled her from the window. “Get your shoes.”

“Why?”