“No.”
Daniel looked at Noah.
“Did you see her break it?”
“No.”
“Did you touch the guitar after you came downstairs?”
“Only after I saw it.”
Daniel nodded.
“Okay.”
Noah stared at him.
“That’s it?”
“For tonight.”
“You believe her?”
“I said that’s enough.”
“Dad—”
“Noah.”
The firmness in his voice ended the argument.
Daniel lifted the guitar carefully.
“I’m taking this with me tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“A repair shop.”
Noah shook his head.
“It can’t be fixed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The neck is broken.”
“I know.”
“The body is cracked.”
“I know.”
“Why are you acting like it’s nothing?”
Daniel looked at him.
“I am not acting like it’s nothing.”
His voice was calm, but there was pain underneath it.
“That guitar belonged to my wife before it belonged to you.”
The kitchen went silent.
Noah lowered his eyes.
Daniel carried the guitar into his bedroom and closed the door.
The next morning, it was gone.
So was the stand.
Noah felt strangely betrayed by that.
For the next three days, nobody mentioned the guitar.
Then something else disappeared.
Emily’s attitude.
She stopped arguing.
She stopped blasting music from her room.
She barely ate dinner.
Once, Noah found her standing outside their father’s bedroom staring at the closed door.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
She walked away.
On Friday afternoon, Noah came home and found Daniel’s truck in the driveway.
That was unusual.
His father never got home before six.
Noah entered through the garage.
Daniel was standing at the kitchen island with a small black device beside him.
“What’s that?”
Daniel looked tired.
“Sit down.”
Noah’s stomach tightened.
“Where’s Emily?”
“Upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Sit.”
Noah did.
Daniel picked up the device.
It was a memory card reader.
“You remember the camera I installed in the living room last Christmas?”
Noah frowned.
“The one for the front window?”
Daniel nodded.
“I thought it only recorded the porch.”
“So did I.”
Daniel turned his laptop around.
“It catches part of the living room in the reflection.”
Noah’s heart started pounding.
Daniel clicked play.
The video had no sound.
The timestamp read 5:51 a.m.
The living room was dim.
The guitar stood where it always stood.
At 5:52, Emily entered.
She was dressed for school.
She stopped in front of the guitar.
She stared at it for almost twenty seconds.
Then she picked it up.
Noah leaned closer to the screen.
Emily sat on the couch and placed the guitar across her lap.
She tried to form a chord.
Stopped.
Tried again.
Her fingers moved awkwardly.
Then she began strumming.
Even without sound, Noah understood what she was doing.