The realization hit all four of us at the same time.
Ethan knew exactly where the cameras pointed.
Not because I had ever shown him.
Because he had already made sure they wouldn’t expose him.
Neither patrol officer missed the look that crossed his face.
One of them, Officer Reynolds, turned toward me.
“Ma’am,” he asked calmly, “do you have surveillance footage?”
“I do.”
Ethan immediately shook his head.
“The pool camera hasn’t worked in months.”
I looked at him.
“How would you know that?”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Daniel stared at him with growing disbelief.
“You’ve checked?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I assumed.”
“You assumed which camera wasn’t working?”
Silence spread across the patio.
The afternoon alarm had stopped, but the neighborhood had not.
People still stood beyond the fence.
Watching.
Listening.
Mrs. Whitmore pretended to trim her roses while clearly hearing every word.
Mr. Henderson folded his newspaper and crossed his arms.
The two teenagers remained beside their bicycles.
Nobody was leaving.
Officer Reynolds wrote something in his notebook.
“I’d like to see the footage.”
Ethan climbed one step higher in the pool.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I think we do.”
“This is a private marital issue.”
Daniel laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“No,” he said quietly.
“This became my marital issue too.”
Brooke finally started crying.
