He had installed a motion-sensor floodlight above the patio entryway.

It wasn’t a hidden camera.

It was an overt security light with a local storage card because someone had stolen a bicycle off our porch a few months prior.

Mark had laughed when my dad put it up.

“Don, you’re acting like we’re guarding Fort Knox.”

My dad hadn’t smiled.

“A house doesn’t need a mouth to tell you who walked through the door.”

I never forgot those words.