The second night he did it again, the same bottle, the same first-aid box, the same measured walk toward the door, like he was following a script he’d written in advance. By the third, I couldn’t watch the screen anymore; I watched Detective Hall instead, the way her jaw tightened each time Luca’s figure crossed the frame. When she opened the sixth recording, there was a twist I didn’t see coming: Luca, standing in the garage doorway, pausing to read a message on his phone before he reached for the cabinet. Later, they’d show me that message, the one he sent to someone named Priya about how “this situation” was ruining his timing, how he “couldn’t take her to the hospital yet” because it would “raise questions.” I’d spent a week believing I was the problem. The footage made it clear I had just been in the wa… Continues…
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