So he filed a report.
“Protocol’s protocol,” the officer said. “When the report came in, we looked into it. When we talked to your daughter, she told us why she was doing it.”
I stared at him.
“Why was she doing it, Officer?”
He held my gaze for a moment.
“She told us everything. We just needed to make sure it all checked out.”
Before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Ainsley appeared in the hallway, still wearing her graduation dress. The moment she saw the officers, she froze.
“Hey, Dad,” she said softly. “I was going to tell you tonight, anyway.”
“Bubbles… what is going on?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she said, “Can I just show you something first?”
Before I could respond, she turned and went back upstairs.
A moment later, she returned carrying a shoebox—old, slightly dented at one corner.
She set it gently on the kitchen table, like it held something fragile.
