Then both stopped.

The older officer turned toward the stage so abruptly that his younger partner almost collided with him.

Caleb continued playing.

The older officer stared at him, whispered something to his partner, and remained at the back listening instead of approaching the principal.

During the final chorus, Caleb’s voice cracked.

He fell silent for half a second.

I feared he’d stop, but he swallowed and continued.

When the final chord faded, silence filled the gym.

Then the audience rose in applause.

Caleb stared downward as his shoulders began shaking.

His music teacher approached, but he shook his head and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

I hurried toward the stage.

By the time I reached him, both officers had arrived too.

Alarmed by their sudden interest in my son, I took Caleb’s hand and guided him toward the exit.

We stepped outside the gym, with the officers following.

The older one addressed Caleb.

“Son, what’s your name?”

Caleb glanced at me. “Caleb.”

The officer looked at the guitar.

“And your dad was?”

Caleb’s face grew guarded.

“David.”

The officer’s expression changed.

He turned to his partner. “I knew it.”

My pulse quickened.

“You knew my husband?” I asked.

The officer removed his cap.

“I’m Officer Marcus. This is Officer Alvarez. We knew David.”

“From where?”

“Our local youth center.”

Caleb looked up. “My dad went there?”

Marcus nearly laughed. “Went there? Your dad practically lived there some Thursday nights.”

I wondered whether he’d confused David with someone else.

My husband worked in IT, managing networks for a regional insurance company.

I knew he sometimes volunteered, but I’d assumed he mostly provided technical support.

Marcus turned to Caleb.

“Your dad taught kids how to protect themselves online.”

“How?” I asked.

“Passwords, scams, strangers pretending to be other kids, people asking for pictures they shouldn’t ask for,” he replied.

Marcus added, “Stuff teenagers need to know before they learn it the hard way.”