At 2:03, she called police.
What happened during those six minutes was recorded by a camera Diane never knew existed.
Walter had installed it because of raccoons.
That detail still makes me smile.
For weeks, something had been knocking over the bird feeder near the rear corner of his yard.
Walter, being Walter, refused to accept uncertainty when electronics could answer the question.
He mounted a small battery-powered trail camera beneath an ornamental maple.
It pointed toward the narrow gap between his detached garage and fence.
Through that gap, it could see part of my backyard.
Including my storage shed.
Walter had forgotten about it.
Diane never knew it existed.
And unlike his main cameras, it did not upload to a cloud service.
It stored video locally on a memory card.
That card was in Walter’s hand when he walked toward the police officers outside my house.
Officer Mills had just finished asking whether I owned any controlled substances when Walter appeared.
“I think you should see something.”
Diane stiffened across the street.
Officer Mills turned.
“Sir, I need you to stay outside the perimeter.”
“I am outside it.”
Walter held up a small black memory card between two fingers.
“And you should probably watch this before searching anything.”
Diane stepped forward.
“What is that?”
Walter looked at her.
“Memory.”
I almost laughed.
Officer Mills didn’t.
“What’s on it?”
“My backyard camera.”
Diane spoke immediately.
“His backyard camera has nothing to do with Martin’s property.”
Walter looked at her for a long second.
“How do you know what it sees?”
Diane’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
So did Mills.
The officer called another officer over.
They used Walter’s laptop inside his garage.
I stood at the driveway entrance.
Diane remained across the street.
At first, she kept talking.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I’m the one who reported the suspicious activity.”
“I was trying to protect the neighborhood.”
“I don’t understand why you’re treating me like I did something.”
Nobody answered.
Walter opened the file.
Timestamp:
1:51:08 PM.
The image showed part of my yard.
My shed.
My back fence.
For several seconds, nothing moved.
Then Diane entered the frame.
She carried the canvas bag.
Officer Mills leaned closer.
Diane stopped talking.
On the screen, she crouched beside my shed.
She reached into the bag.
Removed a rectangular package wrapped in dark plastic.
Even from the grainy footage, it was obvious.
She had carried the package into my yard.
My heart started pounding.
Not because I was surprised anymore.
Because seeing someone actually do something that malicious to you is different from suspecting it.
She had entered my home while my daughter and I were away.
She had brought something police-worthy onto my property.
She had hidden it.
Then she had called them.
Walter whispered, “There.”
Officer Mills paused the video.
He looked toward Diane.
She had gone pale.
“I can explain.”
Mills held up a hand.
“Don’t yet.”
He resumed the footage.
Diane knelt beside the shed.
She looked around.
Then she reached into her pocket.
She took out a folded piece of white paper.
At first, I didn’t recognize it.
Neither did the officers.
She unfolded it.