My wife grabbed my arm.
“Don't go after her.”
“I wasn't going to.”
But I was already thinking about something.
Three months earlier, Marlene had offered to buy our property.
She had offered considerably more than the house was worth.
I refused.
She came back with an even larger offer.
I refused again.
She became angry.
“You'll regret making this difficult,” she had told me.
At the time, I thought it was just a threat made during an argument.
Now I wasn't so sure.
The police arrived forty minutes later.
An officer named Rebecca Hayes examined the wreckage.
She photographed everything before allowing anyone near it.
“Do you have security cameras?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
We went inside.
The camera covering the backyard had captured everything.
At 8:17 that morning, Marlene entered our garden.
She looked around.
Then she walked directly toward the water tank.
Officer Hayes paused the video.
“Do you recognize that tool?”
I stared at the screen.
Marlene was carrying a small power cutter.
My mouth went dry.
“She told us she wasn't here.”
Officer Hayes nodded.
“She lied.”
The footage continued.
Marlene crouched beside the support.
She worked for several minutes.
Then she stood.
And before leaving, she looked directly toward my chair.
Not casually.
Deliberately.
Officer Hayes turned to me.
“Mr. Mercer, how often do you sit there?”
“Every afternoon.”
“What time?”
“Usually between four and six.”
She looked back at the screen.
“Then I don't think this was meant to frighten you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think whoever did this expected you to be there.”
The room went silent.
That changed everything.
This wasn't vandalism.
Someone had tried to kill me.
The next morning, investigators searched Marlene's property.
They found the cutting tool in her garage.
They also found several photographs of my house.
Some were taken from her bedroom window.