Owen’s phone vibrated once in his hand. A message from the dispatcher illuminated the screen:
Officers approaching. Stay hidden. Do not confront.
The intruder pulled the metal cover off the panel and reached toward the thick main wiring.
Beverly whispered across the property line, "Grant said it only needed to fail inspection." The man shook his head. "If the city inspector sees heat damage, they’ll shut the place down immediately." "You said no fire!" "There won’t be one. Not tonight."
Owen’s stomach turned to ice. The man popped the lid off the plastic container, revealing a dark, gritty paste. He began smearing it along the heavy insulation surrounding two main wires.
"What is that?" Beverly’s voice trembled. "Conductive compound. It’ll overheat and melt the insulation when he uses enough power." "You told me it would just look old!" "It will look old after it burns," the man grunted.
Beverly took a frightened step back from the fence. "You need to leave." "We’re past that," the man replied, still working the paste into the wires.
Suddenly, a blinding beam of light swept across the fence.
"Police!" a booming voice shouted from the darkness. "Hands where we can see them!"
The intruder jerked upright, panic seizing his face. He dropped the heavy screwdriver and sprinted toward the rear gate. Before he could reach it, a second officer stepped out from the drainage path, weapon drawn, blocking the exit.
The man spun toward Owen’s workshop, looking for an escape. "Stop!" the officer yelled. The intruder hesitated, the fight draining out of him, and slowly raised both hands in the air.
Beverly remained frozen beside the fence. Her phone was still pressed tightly to her ear, though the call had ended.
The first officer moved quickly toward her. "Ma’am, put the phone on the ground." "I—I was calling for help," she stammered, trying to muster her usual neighborly tone. "Put it down."
She lowered the phone slowly. The officer kicked it away into the grass and firmly guided her hands behind her back, the metallic click of handcuffs echoing in the quiet yard.
Beverly frantically looked toward the dark house. "Owen, are you there?"
Owen finally stepped out from the shadows behind the rain barrel. The relief that briefly crossed Beverly's face lasted less than a second. Then, instinctively, she smiled. It was the exact same calm, patient, condescending smile she had given him every day for four months.