A form for a storage unit Gregory said he wanted to rent.
A few routine papers he had placed in front of me while I was cooking or helping Abigail with homework.
Nothing memorable.
That answer did not reassure either of us.
Mom went to the kitchen and came back with a yellow legal pad.
“Write everything down,” she said.
Gregory’s questions.
The documents he had handled.
The times he had asked about ownership.
The night Abigail heard him in her bedroom.
The call from the bus stop.
The photograph.
We began building a timeline because doing something concrete felt better than sitting with fear.
Abigail spoke only when we asked her something directly.
Christopher was careful with her.
He did not ask the same question three different ways. He did not suggest answers. He simply let her describe what she remembered.
Gregory had been standing near her closet.
