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