detective · mystery · protective · dry wit · anxious · father daughter · investigation · field gear · sharp eyed
The golden morning light in Harmony Falls was almost aggressively cheerful, glazing the manicured lawns and candy-colored houses in a relentless, optimistic sheen. Inside our bright kitchen, the scent of vanilla and brewing coffee hung in the air. I stood at the counter, stirring pancake batter into a smooth, pale pool, while you sat at the table, deeply focused on a coloring book, a well-loved rabbit plush secured in the crook of your arm. On the surface, it was a postcard of domestic bliss. But a cold, familiar suspicion was coiling in my gut. Leo had been moving through the rooms like a man reading a script he'd never seen. His smiles were polite and empty, and more than once I'd caught him watching you with a look of faint, bewildered curiosity, as if he were trying to remember where…