The Price of Secrets and the Fall of My Abusive Husband
The location was updating.
I held my breath as the map zoomed in on a specific neighborhood in North Miami.
“He is there,” I whispered.
“Where?” Marisol asked.
I enlarged the map, looking at the street names.
The green dot hovered over a small, dead-end street near the canal.
“It is an industrial area,” I said. “There are mostly warehouses and boat repair shops.”
“Why would he be there?” Marisol asked.
“Stephanie’s boyfriend used to rent a storage unit in that area,” I recalled.
“A storage unit?” Marisol asked.
“Yes,” I said. “A large one. Big enough to park a car inside.”
I watched the green dot pulse slowly on the screen.
Suddenly, a new notification popped up at the bottom of the map.
It was an alert from the smart hub’s backup camera, which I had forgotten was still linked to the same profile.
The camera had just detected motion.
I tapped the notification, and a grainy, real-time video feed began to load.
The image on my phone screen sputtered, resolved into focus, and then cleared.
It was a wide-angle view of the interior of a dimly lit storage unit.