She looked around the table.

For the first time, Linda Prescott wasn't in control.

And that scared her.

CHAPTER 4 — THE CAMERA NEVER LIES

On the fifth day of my vacation, I received a message from Tom.

You need to see this.

He attached a video.

It came from my garage camera.

The timestamp showed 9:42 PM.

A black SUV pulled into my driveway.

Linda stepped out.

She wasn't alone.

A man in a gray suit followed her.

They stood in front of my welded garage door.

Linda pointed toward the door.

The man looked at it.

Then he pulled something from his pocket.

A metal pry bar.

I sat upright.

“What the hell?”

I watched the video again.

The man inserted the pry bar beneath the garage door.

He pushed.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Linda looked around nervously.

Then she pointed toward the camera.

The man looked directly at it.

They froze.

Then they walked away.

Tom called.

“That's what I wanted you to see.”

“Who is the man?”

“Her brother.”

I frowned.

“Why would her brother be trying to open my garage?”

“I don't know.”

“Did they damage anything?”

“Not significantly.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because they didn't have authorization to enter your property.”

I leaned back.

“Did you contact the police?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to know what else the camera captured.”

He sent another clip.

This one was from two days earlier.

Linda was standing outside the garage, talking to a man.

The audio was faint.

But the camera microphone caught enough.

“I told him I needed the space.”

The man replied:

“He won't give you permission?”

“No.”

“Then make the HOA force him.”

“They're starting to question me.”

“Then use the violation.”

“What violation?”

“The welding.”

Linda laughed.

“I'll make one.”

I stopped the video.

There it was.

The thing Tom had been waiting for.

She had admitted it.

The alleged violation wasn't discovered.

It wasn't accidental.

She intended to manufacture it.

I called Tom.

“You have the original file?”

“Yes.”

“Multiple backups?”

“Yes.”

“Cloud storage?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He paused.

“There's more.”

“What?”

“The man with her isn't just her brother.”

I waited.

“He owns the property management company contracted by the HOA.”

I stared at my phone.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Linda wasn't just trying to get her Mercedes out.

She was protecting a system.

For years, homeowners had complained about unexplained maintenance charges.

Landscaping contracts.

Roof inspections.

Pool repairs.

Security upgrades.

The same companies kept winning.

And Linda kept approving them.

Her brother's company was one of the biggest contractors.

Tom had started pulling records.

And the numbers were strange.

Very strange.

“What's the total?” I asked.