A small key was missing from an inner pocket.

It was the key to the safe in my apartment.

I had never told anyone about that safe except my children. Inside were my mother’s jewelry, the documents for my apartment, and cash I had been saving for years.

A chill ran through me.

But how could Daniel possibly have known about the safe?

I immediately called a taxi and rushed home.

When I reached my floor, the apartment door was closed. The lock appeared untouched.

I opened the door and hurried into the bedroom.

The safe was empty.

The money, jewelry, and several important documents were gone.

I was about to call the police when I noticed another photograph on the table.

This time, it was a picture of Daniel.

But standing beside him was someone I knew very well.

My own son.

The photograph had been taken several weeks earlier.