She had delivered the blue folder herself.
And while the whole town was searching for her, Isabel had been walking openly down my street.
I called Munroe before I took off my coat.
He listened to Mrs. Alvarez’s description and requested the original garage clip, which I had already preserved on a separate drive.
Then he asked whether I had noticed anyone following Isabel that morning.
I said the white van had arrived earlier and remained near Lorraine’s house.
He explained that a person can be reported missing without being kidnapped and that investigators still needed to establish whether Isabel was hiding voluntarily, moving under coercion, or facing another danger.
I appreciated the caution even though I wanted an immediate answer.
After I hung up, Erin called.
Paige had seen a photograph of my bruised face in a neighborhood group chat.
Someone had posted that I attacked an elderly woman over a parking dispute.
It was not what happened, but the post was spreading because it came with a dramatic caption and a picture of two patrol cars.
Erin asked whether Paige was safe.
I said I had no reason to believe anyone was after her, but that I did not want her returning to my house until we understood the van.
Paige came on the line.
She sounded furious rather than frightened.
Why does everybody believe the woman who hit you, she asked.
I told her people often remember the loudest version of an event before they learn the true one.
She said that was a terrible system.
I agreed.
I sent Erin the short exterior camera clip showing Lorraine approaching me, but I asked her not to post it publicly.
I knew Paige would hate that decision.
I did not want to turn an active investigation into a neighborhood entertainment feed.
A stranger had already posted a slow-motion version of me dropping my coffee mug.
One person commented that I looked guilty because I did not fight back.
Another said Lorraine had been a gentle woman for decades and must have been defending herself.
The comments made me think of all the witnesses who might have watched the Bellwood ambulance and misread what they saw.
That night I read what I could find about the original fire without contacting the families.
I learned that Jonah Reed’s mother, Keisha, had petitioned the county for revised dispatch logs three times.
Each request ended with an explanation that the official record had already been reviewed.
