Daniel walked back to Emma’s grave, his lungs burning. The grass over her plot was freshly soaked, and pressed deep into the dark mud beside her name was the same chevron-patterned footprint. Daniel sat in his living room that afternoon, the blinds drawn. The image of the hooded figure ran on an endless loop in his mind. Tall, thin, agile and terrified of being identified.
Only one name fit: Caleb Morris. Emma had dated Caleb for nearly two years during college. At first, Caleb had seemed polite, if somewhat quiet and intense. But during the final six months of their relationship, Daniel had watched his daughter grow withdrawn and anxious. When she broke up with him four months before her accident, Daniel had tried to ask what happened.