Chapter 1 — The Day My Neighbor Thought I Was Gone
The first thing I saw when I came home was my neighbor standing beside my swimming pool with a trash bag in her hands.
The second thing I saw was the glass.
Hundreds of broken pieces glittered beneath the afternoon sun, scattered across the bottom of the pool like a layer of ice.
And the third thing I realized was that my ten-year-old daughter had been planning to swim in that pool the next morning.
I had no idea then that the broken glass was only the beginning.
My name is Ryan Hale, and until that afternoon, I thought the worst problem I had with my neighbor was that she complained too much.
Her name was Dana Whitmore.
She lived in the large brick house directly behind mine, separated from my property by a six-foot wooden fence.
For nearly two years, Dana had found something to complain about.
The pool pump was too loud.
The underwater lights were too bright.
My daughter Emily's friends made too much noise.
Even the inflatable flamingo floating in our pool had somehow become a neighborhood issue.
I had learned to ignore her.
That afternoon, however, I couldn't ignore what I was seeing.
My family was supposed to be several states away.
We had left three days earlier for a short road trip for Emily's tenth birthday.
But Emily became sick during the trip.
After an urgent-care doctor examined her, he recommended that we return home and let her rest.
We arrived shortly after four in the afternoon.
Emily went upstairs and fell asleep almost immediately.
My wife was unpacking.
I went into the kitchen to make coffee.
That's when I noticed movement outside.
At first, I thought it was a delivery driver.
Then I recognized Dana.
She was climbing over my fence.
I stepped closer to the window.
She was wearing dark gloves.
In each hand was a heavy black trash bag.
I grabbed my phone.
Something told me not to confront her immediately.
Instead, I started recording.
Dana walked directly toward the pool.
She looked around.
Then she opened the first bag.
The sound that followed made my blood run cold.
Glass poured into the water.
Bottle fragments.
Window glass.
Large, jagged pieces that disappeared beneath the surface.
Dana opened the second bag.
More glass.
She pushed the fragments around with a long-handled broom.
Then she stood back and studied the pool.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I ran outside.
"Dana!"
She spun around.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she smiled.
Not an embarrassed smile.
A cold one.
"You're home."
I pointed at the pool.
"What the hell did you just do?"
She glanced at the water.
"I was taking care of a problem."
"You dumped glass into my pool!"
"You weren't supposed to be here."
That sentence told me everything.
She hadn't expected me to come home.
I held up my phone.
"I recorded everything."
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Then she recovered.
"You should listen to me, Ryan."
"No. You should start explaining."
She folded her arms.
"You have an inspection tomorrow."
"What inspection?"
"The county inspection."