The photo was still open on my screen when morning light crept through the curtains.
I hadn’t slept, every time I closed my eyes I saw it. Someone had been standing in the garden long enough to document everything and build a case.
I stared at the initials again, “D.”
Damien, it has to be him, or is he not the one? I asked myself the question.
The photo had been taken before the power went out, which meant whoever sent it had been outside while I was still in the shower, then probably turned off the light after. The timing made no sense and the more I turned it over, the worse it got.
I dressed quickly, in a grey hoodie, shorts, hair pulled into a messy knot, and slipped into the hallway with just my sock on before the house stirred.
The estate was different at this hour, the marble
