“Saving copies of today’s security footage before anything accidentally disappears,” I replied without taking my eyes away from the display screen.
Alana scoffed loudly.
“You think cameras prove anything?”
“No,” I answered.
“They simply remember better than people who keep changing their stories.”
Nobody responded.
That silence lasted only a few seconds before another vehicle appeared near the entrance to the long driveway leading toward the farmhouse.
This time it belonged to Parker.
His pickup rolled slowly across the gravel before stopping near the porch without unnecessary speed or dramatic gestures that would only fuel the growing conflict.
He climbed out carrying nothing except his phone and a tired expression that immediately searched for Dustin instead of looking toward his mother.
The moment Dustin stepped forward, Parker crossed the yard without hesitation and wrapped both arms around him.
“Are you okay, buddy?” he asked quietly.
Dustin nodded once before burying his face against Parker’s shoulder without saying another word.
Watching that simple embrace visibly irritated Alana.
She stepped forward almost immediately, hoping to regain control before anyone else spoke first.
“Parker,” she interrupted firmly.
“Your wife completely overreacted because Dustin refused to behave after causing problems all morning.”
Parker looked at her without answering immediately.
Instead, he gently helped Dustin back onto his feet before turning toward me with calm concern rather than anger.
“Clarissa,” he asked.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, Ellie interrupted loudly enough for every relative present to hear.
“She accused Mom of abusing Dustin because he didn’t receive fried chicken during lunch.”
Denise shook her head dramatically.
“I cannot believe anyone would destroy an entire family over one meal.”
Parker remained silent.
He slowly walked inside the dining room where lunch still sat untouched across the table exactly as I had found it earlier.
Three nearly empty plates rested together beside scattered chicken bones, warm rolls, butter, chocolate wrappers, and half-finished glasses of iced tea.
Across the room stood the worn armchair where Dustin had been sitting alone.
Parker noticed the empty plastic plate still resting inside the kitchen sink.
He picked it up carefully.
“What was on this?” he asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
Finally, I spoke.
“A cold boiled potato.”
Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Because he was being disciplined.”
Parker placed the plate back into the sink before opening the trash container beneath the counter.
The potato remained exactly where I had thrown it only minutes earlier.
Its cut surface had already turned gray after sitting uncovered in the warm kitchen.
Parker stared at it much longer than anyone expected.
When he finally closed the trash lid, something inside his expression had quietly changed.
