Chris pressed play.
For the first few seconds, nothing happened.
The camera showed the front of my house under the yellow porch light, the driveway shining from an earlier drizzle, and Norma’s car backed close to the garage.
Then Melissa stepped through the front door carrying a bag.
Norma followed with another one.
Sarah came out behind them in her pajamas.
She looked small enough that the sight of her beside those two adults made my stomach tighten before anything terrible even happened.
“Watch the time,” Chris said.
7:06 p.m.
I leaned closer.
There was no audio on that camera angle, but the picture was clear.
Sarah was speaking to Melissa.
Melissa barely looked at her.
Norma opened the rear hatch of the car.
Melissa placed the bag inside.
Sarah reached for Melissa’s arm.
Melissa pulled away.
Then she pointed toward the house.
Sarah turned back toward the front door.
Melissa closed it behind her.
A moment later, Melissa tried the handle herself, as if checking that it had locked.
Then she and Norma got into the car.
Sarah stood on the walkway watching them.
The car backed into the street.
My daughter ran after it in bare feet.
I stopped breathing.
“No,” I said.
Chris did not answer.
On-screen, Sarah reached the end of the driveway just as Norma’s car disappeared.
She stayed there for several seconds, staring down the street.
Then she walked back to the front door and tried the handle.
Locked.
She knocked.
She waited.
She knocked again.
Nobody came.
“How long?” I asked.
“Keep watching.”
The recording accelerated as Chris moved through it.
Sarah sat on the front step.
She stood.
She walked around the side of the house.
She returned.
Twice she tried the door again.
At one point she curled her knees against her chest beneath the porch light.
At 8:12, darkness had settled over the street.
At 8:47, rain started.
At 9:31, Sarah moved beneath the narrow overhang by the garage.
At 10:38, she walked down the driveway, apparently trying to see whether a car was coming.
Her bare foot slipped on the wet concrete.
She fell hard near the edge of the driveway.
I jerked forward in my chair.
Sarah disappeared partly below the camera frame.
When she stood again, one hand went immediately to her forehead.
Even from the grainy recording I could see the dark stain spreading across her sleeve when she wiped her face.
That was the blood.
