A technician named Daniel Price arrived.
Daniel spent nearly two hours checking the network.
Finally, he called Adrian over.
"Your cameras aren't losing power."
"Then why are they going offline?"
"They're being disabled."
Adrian stared at him.
"Remotely?"
"Looks like it."
"From where?"
Daniel showed him the diagnostic screen.
"There."
A device identifier.
Adrian recognized the manufacturer.
It was used by the same type of network bridge the HOA had installed months earlier.
Adrian remembered receiving a notice.
The HOA had partnered with a technology company to integrate neighborhood cameras, gate systems, and smart-home devices.
Adrian had refused.
He wanted his security network independent.
Daniel frowned.
"Someone may have retained administrative access."
"Can you block it?"
"Yes."
"Do it."
They replaced the router.
Changed every password.
Created a separate camera network.
Added local storage.
Daniel also installed a small battery-powered camera inside a weatherproof garden sensor.
"It doesn't connect to your Wi-Fi," he explained.
"Good."
"It records locally."
"Even better."
Daniel packed his equipment.
Then looked at Adrian.
"If someone has been entering your property, you'll see them now."
Adrian looked through the window toward the pool.
"I hope I don't."
Daniel paused.
"Why?"
"Because whoever is doing this already knows too much."
That night, Adrian went to bed early.
At 2:23 a.m., someone opened his rear gate.
The hidden camera recorded everything.
A figure in dark clothing entered.
Carrying a garbage bag.
The person walked directly toward the pool.
Dropped it.
Then turned around.
Forty-three seconds.
That was all.
But as the figure passed beneath a small garden light, something metallic flashed near the person's hip.
Adrian paused the video.
Zoomed in.
He couldn't identify the object.
Badge?
Key ring?
Something else?
He didn't know.
So he called the police.
And Officer Grant Miller arrived again.
Miller watched the footage twice.
Then he shrugged.
"Hard to identify."
"He used my gate."
"Could have picked the lock."
"It wasn't picked."
Miller looked at him.
"You sure?"
"I changed the lock yesterday."
"Then maybe someone has a duplicate key."
Adrian stared.
"That's exactly what I'm worried about."
Miller didn't answer.
Instead, he asked Adrian to send him the footage.
"Which report number should I attach it to?"
Adrian paused.
"You have been filing reports?"
"Of course."
"How many?"
Miller looked uncomfortable.
"I don't know."
"There have been eleven incidents."
"I don't memorize case numbers."
Adrian opened his spreadsheet.
"I have three."
Miller's expression changed.
"Three?"
"Three police reports."
"There should be more."
Adrian called the police records department.
The answer came that afternoon.
Only four incidents had complete reports.
Three were classified as service contacts.
Four had no completed report.
Adrian sat silently at his desk.
Eleven calls.
Four reports.
One officer responding repeatedly.
His cameras disabled during every incident.
Then he noticed another detail.
The first three incidents had happened before Meredith confronted him.
After she learned about the problem, the timing changed.
The garbage stopped.
For five days.
Then returned.
Adrian called a detective named Lena Brooks.
She was not the officer assigned originally.
She listened carefully.
"Send me everything."
He did.
Photos.
Videos.
Camera logs.
HOA notices.
Police records.
Everything.
Two days later, Detective Brooks arrived.
She was younger than Adrian expected.
Black woman.
Early thirties.
Quiet.
Focused.
She photographed the gate.
Checked the lock.
Reviewed the hidden-camera footage.
Then she asked one question.
"Does the HOA have emergency access keys?"
"For common facilities."
"Private homes?"
"They shouldn't."
"Shouldn't isn't the same as no."
Adrian looked at her.
She continued.
"Did the previous homeowner participate in any emergency-access program?"
Adrian checked his closing documents.
The previous owner had.
His stomach tightened.
The HOA had apparently never removed the address from an old emergency-access list.
Meredith might still have access.
Adrian changed the gate lock again.
This time, he changed the access code too.
Two nights later, someone tried the old key.
The hidden camera recorded the attempt.
The person stood at the gate.
Inserted a key.
Turned.
Nothing.
The person froze.
Then slowly looked directly toward Adrian's house.
Adrian felt a chill.
Detective Brooks watched the footage.
"Do not confront anyone."
"Who is it?"
"We don't know."
"You have an idea."
She didn't answer.
"Detective."
She finally looked at him.
"The person is using a radio."
Adrian zoomed in.
The figure had lifted a small device to their mouth before entering.
"Police radio?"
"Possibly."
"Possibly?"
"We need more."
Then she asked something unexpected.
"Have you found anything unusual inside the garbage?"
"Food. Paper. Packaging."
"Documents?"
"Sometimes."
"Names?"
"Usually removed."
"Anything that looks valuable?"
Adrian thought.
"No."
Brooks nodded.
"Good."
She started walking away.
Adrian followed her.
"Why did you ask?"