I opened the pantry door, moved three heavy jars of preserved peaches, and pressed my thumb against the biometric scanner of the small wall safe.

The heavy steel door clicked open.

I placed the silver flash drive inside and slammed it shut, spinning the dial.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, expecting a text from Nora.

Instead, it was a push notification from my home security application.

The screen read: *Motion Detected – Rear Perimeter.*

I tapped the notification, opening the live camera feed.

The black-and-white infrared night vision showed my backyard patio.

A figure in a hooded sweatshirt was crouching near the glass sliding doors.

He held a crowbar in his right hand.

The camera caught the side of his face as he looked up directly into the lens.

It was Gareth Thorne.

I stared at the phone screen.

My thumb hovered over the panic button.

On the display, Gareth Thorne jammed the flat edge of the crowbar into the seam of my sliding door.

The metal scraped against the reinforced frame, a dull, grating sound that vibrated through the floorboards.