Part 4 The last Photo

After my dad sent that picture… he stopped replying.

Calls went straight to voicemail.

Texts delivered, but never read.

My sister and I drove to his house the next morning.

The front door was unlocked.

That alone made my stomach twist. My dad is the kind of guy who locks everything — doors, windows, even the garage.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

We called his name.

Nothing.

The kitchen lights were on, coffee still sitting in the machine like he’d started making it and never finished.

Then we saw the dining room.

The chair at the head of the table was still pulled out.

But now there was something sitting on it.

A phone.

Not my dad’s.

Not mine.

Not my sister’s.

Just… a phone.

The screen was on.

Camera app open.

And the preview showed us standing in the doorway.

Like someone had just taken a photo.

My sister grabbed it and checked the gallery.

There were hundreds of photos.

All taken at 3:12 AM.

Different houses.

Different people.

Different places.

Sleeping couples.

Empty hallways.

Living rooms.

Every photo taken from the same angle — just inside the front door.

Like someone had quietly stepped inside, taken a picture… and left.

Then we found the last photo.

It was from last night.

My dad’s house.

The staircase.

At the top of the stairs… someone was standing there.

It wasn’t the man in the hoodie.

It was my dad.

But he was just standing still.

Facing the camera.

Eyes open.

Not moving.

Then my sister noticed something else.

In the reflection of the picture frame on the wall…

You could see someone standing behind the person taking the photo.

The grey hoodie.

The man.

Holding the phone.

Taking the picture.

My sister whispered, “Where’s dad now?”

We ran upstairs.

Every room was empty.

No sign of him.

No struggle.

Nothing.

Then we heard a notification sound.

The phone on the dining chair buzzed.

A new photo had appeared.

Taken right now.

My sister opened it.

It was a picture of the dining room.

The same room we were standing in.

Taken from the hallway.

We slowly turned toward the hallway.

Nobody was there.

But in the photo… someone was.

Standing behind us.

Grey hoodie.

Phone raised.

Taking the picture.

My sister dropped the phone.

When it hit the floor, the screen changed again.

Another new photo.

This one was taken from outside the house.

Through the front window.

You could see the dining room.

You could see us standing there.

But there were three people in the room now.

Me.

My sister.

And someone sitting at the head of the table.

My dad.

Just sitting there.

Completely still.

Facing the camera.

Then the phone buzzed again.

One last photo.

This one wasn’t our house.

It was a living room we’d never seen before.

A random house.

Somewhere else.

A man sleeping on a couch.

The photo was taken from the front door.

And in the reflection of the TV…

You could see the person taking the picture.

Grey hoodie.

Phone raised.

But behind him…

Standing in the hallway…

Were three more people.

My dad.

My sister.

And me.

All of us standing still.

Watching.

Holding phones.

Taking the next photo.

And at the bottom of the screen was the timestamp.

3:12 AM.

Tonight.