ering to lock the doors. The cheerful primary colors of the playground equipment s

crossed, a grim expression on her face. A

emanded, my voice raw

forward. "Sir, I ne

g a finger at Ms. Albright. "She' s lying.

served for the deeply disturbed. "David," she said, her voice soft and infuriatingly re

hair, he was wearing a blue jacket! You talked to him!

he office. She just shook her head sl

y phone. My hands were shaking so badly I a

screen to play it. I shoved the phon

g, talking. But the space next to me, where Leo' s small form should have been, was completely empty. I was ta

big man at school," my video-

ine. No. No, that' s not right. He was there. I

ecorded voice said the stilted line, "I am officially leaving my son, Leo Miller, in your care." In the video, Ms.

wn voice a stranger to my ears. "T

photograph from her desk. It was a class pi

id gently. "He' s in Mrs. Gable' s class. H

cture, but his eyes were different, and his smile was one I' d never seen

y son," I said

the office. She was the one from my m

?" she asked, her eyes dartin

"This is David Miller, Michael' s father. Can you confirm for the

o? No. He dropped Michael off this morning, same as alway

A doctored video. A photograph of a strange child they claimed

find a glitch, a flaw, something to prove I wasn' t insane. I zoomed in on th

en I s

tence next to me. It was Leo. I saw his smile, his blue jacket. He was there, like a ghost trapped i

ep from falling. My own evidence was telling me I was crazy. My own eyes were show

e eve

seed, planted itself in t