I thought my husband was the victim of a home invasion, until the suspect in handcuffs screamed a terrifying question across our lawn.

The tech team set up their equipment right on my kitchen table, plugging the three external hard drives into a heavy black laptop.

I sat in the corner of the room, wrapped in a fleece blanket Sarah had brought down from the guest room, holding a cold cup of tea.

"Files are decrypted," the technician announced, clicking through a series of video folders.

Detective Miller stepped closer to the screen. "Show me the earliest timestamp."

A video window popped up. The footage was taken from a dashcam installed inside a vehicle. The date stamp in the lower right corner read: 08/11/2022 – 11:42 PM.

The vehicle was driving down a dimly lit, rain-slicked road. In the distance, a young woman with blonde hair—Clara Pendelton—was walking along the shoulder, carrying a black shoulder bag.

A dark sedan pulled up beside her, its hazard lights flashing.

A man stepped out of the driver's side. He wore a heavy rain jacket with a raised hood, hiding his face from the camera. He spoke to Clara for a few seconds. She appeared hesitant, then stepped toward the car.

Suddenly, the hooded man grabbed her arm, forcing her toward the open passenger door.

Clara fought back, swinging her heavy bag against his face. During the struggle, the man's hood was yanked backward.

The streetlamp above illuminated his face for two full seconds.

It wasn't Mark.

I let out a loud, shuddering breath, dropping my head into my hands. "It's not him! Oh God, it's not him!"

Detective Miller leaned in closer to the screen, her brow furrowed. "Pause it right there. Zoom in on the driver."

The technician zoomed in on the man's face. He was in his late thirties, with a heavy jawline, dark receding hair, and a thick scar running across his left cheek.

"Who is that?" Miller asked.

"That's Donald Vance," the technician replied, cross-referencing the image with an Illinois state database. "Mark Vance’s older brother."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

"Donald Vance was arrested three years ago for vehicular manslaughter," the technician continued, reading from his screen. "He died in a state prison in Illinois eight months ago from heart failure."