She looked terrified.
“You should check your cameras,” she said.
“We don’t have cameras.”
She froze.
Then whispered:
“You should.”
That night I installed one in the hallway.
The next morning I checked the footage.
At 3:14 AM…
Someone opened my daughter’s bedroom door.
It wasn’t the babysitter.
It wasn’t my husband.
It was my mother-in-law.
And she was holding something in her hand.
A syringe.