I told him I didn’t know.
He asked if anyone else had a key.
I said my mother had one, but she was out of state.
He asked about the garage.
I said Daniel’s car was usually inside when he worked from home.
He asked whether the house had cameras.
I said the doorbell camera worked, but the garage camera had been offline for two weeks because Daniel said the router needed replacing.
He wrote that down.
The way he wrote it down made my stomach drop.
Forensic details feel harmless until someone starts collecting them in your kitchen.
Then every little fact becomes a door.
The cinnamon plug-in was unplugged and placed into an evidence bag.
The broken mug was photographed before anyone swept it.
The 911 call time was confirmed against my phone.
The smartwatch log was saved.
The front door lock was checked for damage.
No obvious forced entry.
