“Someone threatened her.”
His face froze.
“What?”
I showed him the messages.
He read every one slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to fear.
“This happened after our date?”
“Yes.”
He handed back the phone.
“We should call the police.”
“I already told Rachel we should.”
“Then why are you here?”
I studied him carefully.
“Because the sender knew personal details about her. They also knew when I called.”
He stared at me.
“You think I did this?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
He slowly lowered himself onto the couch.
For a moment, he looked far older than he had the day before.
“I would never hurt her.”
“Then help me understand.”
He rubbed his hands across his knees.
“I cannot.”
As he watched, I searched the house.
Everything looked ordinary.
The kitchen was spotless.
His laptop sat on the dining table.
His phone rested beside it.
“May I look at your phone?” I asked.
He hesitated for only a moment.
“Of course.”
There were no hidden apps.
No suspicious calls.
No unfamiliar contacts.
Then I noticed a notification from his home security system.
“You installed cameras?”
“After someone broke into the garage last year.”
“Where are they?”
“Front porch, driveway, and back door.”
I opened the app.
The footage showed my father returning home alone at 10:17 p.m.
He went inside.
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