For three days, nothing.
On the fourth, he came back.
Slipped in through the gate. Entered through the side door we never locked. Stayed nearly four minutes. Didn’t steal. Didn’t break anything.
He just… sat there.
Touched the walls. The laundry basket. Like he belonged.
The police said it wasn’t quite enough. No break-in. No theft.
Just footage. Disturbing, but not criminal.
We changed every lock. Bought a new security system. I still couldn’t sleep.
Then Linda came over with banana bread and something heavier.
“I should’ve told you earlier,” she said. “After Marcus lost his wife, I checked in on him. He opened up a bit. Talked about wanting to feel normal again. Said things like… ‘your family reminds me of what I lost.’ I thought it was just grief.”
I stared at her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”