Two days later, Mrs. Donnelly knocked on my front door.
She had lived next door since before Brian and I even bought the house. She knew everything happening on the block before most people knew it themselves.
“Laura,” she whispered nervously, “I think you need to see something.”
I frowned. “What happened?”
“My security camera catches part of your garage.”
She held up her phone with trembling fingers.
“I didn’t want to interfere… but after watching him every morning before sunrise, I couldn’t ignore it.”
My chest tightened immediately.
The footage showed blurry blue darkness from just before dawn.
At first, nothing happened.
Then Brian stepped out of the garage carrying Micah’s little red sneakers.
I stared. “Why does he have those?”
“Keep watching,” Mrs. Donnelly said quietly.
Brian carefully placed the shoes beside the garage steps before disappearing inside again.
Moments later, he returned carrying Tyra’s purple backpack.
My stomach dropped.
“That was missing all week.”
He adjusted the backpack straps so the dangling keychain faced outward. Then he sat heavily on the step and lowered his head into his hands.
For one split second, he looked devastated.
Then a timer beeped.
Brian immediately grabbed a phone propped near the flowerpot and replayed whatever he had just filmed.
And he smiled.
Not sadly.
Not emotionally.
Proudly.