Chapter 4 - THE TRAP THAT WASN'T A TRAPThe next day, I called David.
“She's still trying.”
“Don't engage.”
“I won't.”
“Let the cameras work.”
So I did.
I also installed a professionally monitored security system.
Not because I was frightened.
Because I was tired of guessing.
That evening, Monica's husband, Ryan, appeared at my door.
He looked nothing like her.
Tired.
Uncomfortable.
Almost embarrassed.
“Can we talk?”
I opened the door.
“What about?”
He glanced toward Monica's house.
“She doesn't know I'm here.”
“That worries me.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I didn't know she was using your electricity.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“I knew she was looking for a cheaper way to charge.”
I waited.
He sighed.
“She said you'd never notice.”
My jaw tightened.
“She said your husband was dead, you lived alone, and you wouldn't care.”
That hurt.
Not because Monica knew I was alone.
Because she had interpreted loneliness as weakness.
Ryan continued.
“She has debt.”
“So?”
“She doesn't want me to tell you this.”
“What kind of debt?”
He shook his head.
“Too much.”
Then he looked at me.
“She didn't buy the Tesla outright.”
I didn't understand.
“It's financed.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She can't afford it.”
I stared at him.
“That still doesn't explain the surveillance.”
Ryan's expression changed.
“What surveillance?”
I told him about the utility request.
He went pale.
“I didn't know about that.”
“Ryan, what exactly is Monica doing?”
“I don't know.”
He started walking away.
Then stopped.
“She has another account.”
“What account?”
“An online business.”
“What business?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
He left.
I stood on the porch for several minutes.
Then my phone buzzed.
A security alert.
Someone had accessed the utility enclosure.
I checked the camera.
A hooded person was standing beside my garage.
The person didn't approach the outlet.
Instead, they crouched near the wall.
I zoomed in.
They placed something beneath the siding.
Then walked away.
I called the police.
An officer arrived.
The device was a small wireless camera.
My heart sank.
Someone had been watching my garage.
The officer photographed it.
“Do you know anyone who might do this?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then keep the footage.”
I called David.
His voice became serious.
“Eleanor, do not confront Monica.”
“I won't.”
“Good.”
He paused.
“Because this may be bigger than electricity.”
I looked at the tiny camera on my table.
“I know.”
The next morning, I received an email.
Unknown sender.
One attachment.
A photograph of me standing in my driveway.
Taken from across the street.
The timestamp was 2:14 a.m.
Under the photograph was one sentence:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT ALONE.
I stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING.
I forwarded everything to David.
Then I did something I hadn't done in years.
I called my late husband's best friend.
His name was Frank.
Frank had worked in private security.
When I told him what was happening, he didn't laugh.
He didn't tell me I was overreacting.
He said:
“Eleanor, someone is trying to make you feel watched.”
“Why?”
“To make you stop looking.”
“At what?”
He paused.
“I don't know yet.”
May you like
Then he added:
“But I'll help you find out.”
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