Late-night surveillance
Every evening, John reviewed the security footage, searching for anything that might explain Max’s distress.
He sat hunched at the kitchen table, laptop open, sipping lukewarm coffee as he scrolled through hours of uneventful video.
“Nothing yet,” he muttered to himself.
Emily appeared behind him. “Find anything?” she asked.
John shook his head. “Just the usual.” The lack of evidence wore on him, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
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