Ryan crouched on the porch, fingers tracing the muddy prints. My heart hammered so hard I thought he’d hear it. He straightened slowly, eyes scanning the dark yard.
“Someone was definitely here,” he muttered.
I gripped the doorframe. “Could be one of the neighbors’ boys jumping through the fence again, you know how they are.”
He stared at me for a long second, then wiped his hands on his pants. “Maybe.”
That was all. No more questions. He brushed past me into the house, shoulders still tight, and headed straight upstairs. I followed close behind so I could grab the camera, bare feet silent on the steps.
In the bedroom he started peeling off his clothes, the ones he’d thrown on in a rush when the vase shattered. He muttered something about needing to sleep like a normal person for on
