One paramedic told me to give him space.
I did.
Barely.
Then the officer near the laundry room stopped.
Not paused.
Stopped.
His flashlight beam fixed on the door leading into the garage.
He looked once at the plug-in warmer.
Then at the key dish.
Then at me.
A second officer came back holding a small evidence bag.
Inside it was something I recognized before my mind wanted to.
Daniel’s spare car fob.
The one we kept hidden for emergencies.
The one only three people knew about.
Daniel.
Me.
And Chloe.
The kitchen went silent except for the paramedic counting Chloe’s breaths and the faint mechanical hum coming from behind the garage door.
The first officer leaned close enough that I could see the dust on his sleeve and the caution in his eyes.
“Ma’am,” he whispered, “you may not believe the reason…”
Then his partner reached for the garage door handle.
