Chapter 4 - The CameraSomeone Had Been Watching UsI printed the photograph.

Then I studied it for nearly an hour.

The image showed my house in darkness.

The porch light was on.

The curtains in our bedroom were closed.

Arthur had already been dead for years.

Whoever took the photograph had known that I lived there alone.

That realization made my skin crawl.

I called Martin again.

"Do you know who took the photograph?"

"Not yet."

"Can you find out?"

"We can investigate."

"I don't want investigate."

I looked toward the kitchen.

"I want answers."

That evening, I installed cameras outside the house.

Not hidden.

Visible.

If someone wanted to watch me, they would know I had started watching back.

Sarah noticed immediately.

"Are those cameras?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For security."

She frowned.

"Has something happened?"

"Not yet."

She walked away.

David found me later.

"Mom, Sarah thinks you're becoming paranoid."

"Sarah thinks many things."

He sat beside me.

"I need to tell you something."

I waited.

He took a deep breath.

"She asked me to sign something."

My hands went still.

"What?"

"A property expense document."

"Did you sign it?"

He didn't answer.

"David."

"Yes."

"What did it say?"

"It was supposed to show that we'd contributed to maintenance."

"Maintenance we paid for?"

"Some repairs."

"What repairs?"

He looked embarrassed.

"A plumber. The sectional. Some electrical work."

I stared at him.

"How much?"

"Maybe twelve thousand."

I felt a strange calm settle over me.

"Did you use my name?"

"No."

"Did you claim you owned part of the property?"

"No."

"Did Sarah?"

He hesitated.

"I don't know."

I stood.

"Find out."

"Mom..."

"Find out tonight."

He nodded.

An hour later, he came back downstairs.

He looked sick.

"What did you find?"

He sat down.

"She has a spreadsheet."

"What kind?"

"Property contribution."

He opened his phone.

The spreadsheet listed expenses.

Below them was a running total.

At the bottom:

Future Equity Contribution.

Total:

$13,487.22

I looked at David.

"That's not equity."

"I know."

"Do you?"

He lowered his head.

"What exactly has Sarah been telling you?"

He took a long breath.

"She said if we improve the house, help with expenses, and live here long enough, we could argue that we had a financial interest."

I closed my eyes.

That wasn't an innocent misunderstanding.

That was a strategy.

I looked toward the staircase.

"Where is she?"

"She went out."

"When?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

My phone buzzed.

A camera alert.

Movement detected.

Back door.

I opened the security feed.

Sarah was standing in the garden.

She was not alone.

A man stood beside her.

Mid-forties.

Dark coat.

Leather folder.

They were speaking quietly.

I zoomed the image.

Sarah handed him something.

He handed her a document.

Then he looked directly toward the house.

Toward one of my cameras.

He pointed.

Sarah turned.

They both stared at the lens.

Then the man smiled.

I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

"Mom?"

I didn't answer.

David stepped closer to the monitor.

"Who is that?"

"I don't know."

He stared.

Then his face changed.

"Wait."

"What?"

"I've seen him before."

"Where?"

"At Sarah's parents' house."

I turned.

"Why was he there?"

David looked at me.

"I think he's a mortgage broker."

The room went silent.

A mortgage broker.

Standing in my garden.

At night.

With my daughter-in-law.

I called the police.

Not because I thought they had committed a crime.

Because I wanted the encounter documented.

By the time the officers arrived, the man was gone.

Sarah came inside through the front door.

She looked surprised to see two officers.

"What happened?"

I said nothing.

One officer asked where she had been.

She smiled.

"Walking."

"With whom?"

She paused.

"No one."

I looked at the camera feed.

Then at her.

"That's interesting."

She stared at me.

For the first time, Sarah didn't look like a woman trying to take over a house.

She looked like a woman trying to hide what she had already done.

The next morning, a certified letter arrived.

This time, it wasn't from Harrison & Vale.

It was from the county records office.

I opened it at the kitchen counter.

And read the first sentence.

Notice of attempted filing regarding property interest.

My pulse raced.

Someone had attempted to file a document against my house.

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And the signature attached to the document was mine.

Except I had never signed it.