Chapter 17

Morgan turned her computer on and double-clicked the surveillance app, pulling up her home monitoring system.

She did a quick mental calculation of the timeframe she passed Amber’s SUV. “Three o’clock.” Morgan pressed the play button, speeding it up to almost double the recording time.

On her first pass, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Slow down,” Morgan chided herself. “You’re going too fast.”

After fixing a cup of tea, she replayed the recording from three on. Despite moving at a much slower pace, nothing showed up.

Thinking maybe Amber had stopped by closer to the start of the open house, she accessed the earlier timeframe and watched as she and Chester pulled out of the driveway.

Her mind wandered, and she began second guessing herself. Maybe she had left both screen doors ajar. Morgan had been under a lot of stress the past couple of days. Still, it was her habit to keep all doors closed at all times.

Fifteen minutes passed. Cars drove by. A bicyclist pedaled past. Roughly fifteen minutes after they had left Looking Glass Cottage, a vehicle slowed and pulled in.

Morgan bolted upright, watching closely as the red truck idled at the end of the driveway. Seconds later, it backed up and drove off in the opposite direction.

She hit the pause button and took a break. Wyatt’s suggestion she was making a big deal out of nothing was starting to make her wonder. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting but becoming paranoid.

Morgan warmed her lukewarm tea and tried again. At two-thirty three, another vehicle drove past Looking Glass Cottage. It was Amber’s SUV. Long moments ticked by.

It reappeared. The SUV turned and drove straight into Morgan’s driveway.

From the angle of the camera, she couldn’t see who climbed out. As soon as the driver strode to the back door, she got a clear shot of Amber.

The woman never even checked for cameras. Looking like she owned the place, she opened the screen door and tried the knob. Morgan watched her jiggle it several times.

Amber lifted the doormat and looked underneath, searching for a key, Morgan suspected. “Lady, you are busted,” she fumed.

Amber spun in a slow circle. She walked past her SUV and to the front door.

Hitting the pause button, Morgan accessed her second surveillance camera’s recordings, the one positioned near the front door. Quickly calculating the exact time, she pulled up the video and clicked the play button.

Amber came into view. She opened the screen door and tried the doorknob. Checking under the welcome mat was next.

With a furtive glance over her shoulder, she watched her cautiously approach the front window. Leaning in, Amber peeked inside.

“She’s a trip,” Morgan muttered. “What nerve.”

Amber exited the porch, climbed back into her SUV, and drove off.

Feeling vindicated, she made copies of the recordings and forwarded them to her email. She would show them to Wyatt. Not now, but soon.

Morgan promptly addressed thank-you envelopes to the open house attendees, adding personal notes to each card.

She stacked them off to the side and grabbed her cell phone. Wyatt had sent a text earlier, asking how the open house had gone.

She fired off a quick reply, letting him know it was a success, at least she thought it had been. Morgan glanced at the clock. Wyatt had started his shift already, which meant she wouldn’t hear from him until later in the evening.

After fixing a sandwich for dinner, she settled in front of the television.

Whooeee…whooee. The sound of sirens grew louder. Gazing through her sheer living room curtains, she glimpsed bright red flashing lights.

Morgan hopped off the sofa and ran to the door. She made it to the porch in time to see an ambulance speed around the curve, heading toward Easton Harbor.

She said a silent prayer for whoever was involved and returned to the sofa. Chester sat next to her plate, a guilty expression on his face. “Did you lick my sandwich?”

Her pup’s ears flattened and his tail lowered.

“You did, didn’t you?” Morgan tore off a small piece of turkey and fed it to him. “I shouldn’t reward bad behavior, but at least you didn’t run off with it.”

Finishing her food, she rinsed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. The motion detector spotlight came on.

Thinking it might be Amber, Morgan grabbed her cell phone and cautiously made her way to the back door. She peeked through the window. Her friend Grady MacDonald, who was also an Easton Harbor patrol officer, stood outside on her stoop.

She eased the door open. “Hey, Grady.”

“Hello, Morgan. I…uh.”

Morgan’s scalp tingled. She could tell from the look on his face something was terribly wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s Wyatt,” he blurted out. “He’s been in an accident.”