People who worked with evidence valued that.
Torres asked:
“Cameras?”
“Going up today.”
“Good.”
“Anything else?”
Marcus thought.
“I want to wait.”
Torres looked at him.
“For what?”
“If this repeats, I want whoever it is on camera.”
She leaned back.
“No confrontation.”
“Agreed.”
“You see someone entering, call local police.”
“Agreed.”
“Do not approach.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“You have said agreed twice but your face says you're going to improvise.”
“My face is neutral.”
“It is not.”
Marcus considered.
“I will not touch anyone.”
“Better.”
Torres paused.
Then said:
“We can add temporary exterior monitoring.”
Marcus frowned.
“Federal?”
“Limited.”
“Why?”
“Because the intimidation may relate to the financial case.”
She added:
“If we do it, you do not talk about it.”
Marcus nodded.
By Thursday morning, his backyard was under more observation than Victoria Hale could possibly imagine.
Marcus did not know whether she would return.
He only knew he woke at 5:45.
Put on a bathrobe.
Made coffee.
And waited.
At 6:13, the padlock snapped.
Now Victoria stood beside the pool with a bag of broken glass.
Marcus watched through the phone.
She placed the sack near the deep end.
Looked around.
Then muttered something.
The camera microphone caught it.
“Maybe now he’ll finally learn.”
Marcus felt something cold settle in his stomach.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
There remained a small part of him that had hoped he was wrong.
Victoria opened the sack.
Glass shifted.
Green.
Clear.
Brown.
Some pieces large.
Some frighteningly small.
She tipped the bag.
The first fragments fell into the water.
A handful scattered across the surface.
Then sank.
Sunlight flashed against sharp edges.
Marcus raised his phone.
Started recording directly too.
Victoria dumped more.
A broken bottle neck hit tile with a faint clink.
Marcus stepped through the patio doorway.
Barefoot.
Charcoal robe tied at the waist.
Phone held at chest height.
“Morning, Victoria.”
She spun.
The contractor sack slipped.
Half the remaining glass poured across the coping and into the water.
Her face changed.
For one second, pure fear.
Then control returned.
“What are you doing?”
Marcus almost laughed.
“My question was going to be similar.”
She looked at his phone.
“Stop recording me.”
“No.”
“You cannot record me without consent.”
“We are outside.”