The trees along the highway were green, the sky a perfect, mocking blue.

I pulled into the driveway of our small two-story house.

Daniel’s sedan was parked in its usual spot.

The front door was closed, the blinds drawn.

I got out of the car, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I walked up the concrete steps and reached for the brass doorknob.

It was unlocked.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet foyer.

The smell of fresh coffee and stale toast hung in the air.

“Daniel?” I called out.

There was no answer.

I walked down the hallway toward my home office at the back of the house.

The door to the office was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open.

My desk was neat, just as I had left it.

But the leather briefcase that held my secure laptop was sitting on the floor.

The brass locks were scratched.

They had been forced open with a screwdriver.

I knelt down, my hands trembling as I lifted the leather lid.

The velvet lining inside was empty.

The laptop was gone.