my car was painted.”
Something flickered across her face.
Only for a second.
But I noticed it.
I turned around and went inside.
She followed me without being invited.
“Pull up the footage.”
“I’m trying.”
I opened the security app and started scrolling backward through the night.
Until then, the most exciting things my cameras had recorded were delivery drivers, squirrels, and a neighborhood cat that liked wandering onto my porch.
Then I reached 2:14 a.m.
Motion appeared near the edge of the screen.
A pickup truck slowly came into view.
I paused.
Denise leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know.”
The truck stopped in front of her house.
A man got out.
Then another man climbed from the passenger side.
They walked to the back of the truck and began unloading buckets.
Denise suddenly stopped breathing normally.
