Chapter 2 - The Witness Across the Street
Mrs. Alvarez was seventy-two years old, possessed eyesight that put hawks to shame, and missed absolutely nothing that happened on our suburban cul-de-sac.
She stood on the edge of my lawn, clutching a watering hose she had apparently forgotten to turn off. Water pooled around her sensible walking shoes as she glared directly at Tyler.
“I was pruning my hydrangeas at two o’clock,” Mrs. Alvarez announced, her voice ringing out clearly over the hum of the idling ambulance engine. “And I saw everything.”
Tyler’s calm, practiced demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second. His sunglasses slipped down his nose, revealing eyes that suddenly darted toward the silver SUV. Vanessa’s hand went immediately to her throat, her manicured fingers digging into her pearls.
“Mrs. Alvarez,” Tyler said, pasting on his most patronizing, son-in-law smile. “You know how the heat can play tricks on people at your age. My wife has been under a lot of stress—”
“I am seventy-two, Tyler Sterling, not senile,” Mrs. Alvarez snapped, stepping closer. “I saw that silver vehicle pull up right behind your wife's sedan twenty minutes ago. I saw you get out of the driver's seat. And I saw the blonde woman in the passenger seat wearing that exact floral dress.” She pointed a bony finger straight at Vanessa.
Vanessa flinched, taking a half-step back until her spine hit the side of the SUV.
“You walked over to the driver's side,” Mrs. Alvarez continued, ticking points off on her wrinkled fingers. “You pulled Rachel out? No, you didn't. You yanked her door open, you unbuckled her, and you dragged her across the center console into the back seat. Then you got back out, pushed the driver’s seat all the way back, tossed her phone into the footwell, and slammed the door. You pressed the lock button on the exterior keypad before walking away.”
The police officer turned his attention away from Tyler, his expression hardening as he rested his hand on his holster.
“Is this true, sir?” the officer asked, stepping between Tyler and Mrs. Alvarez.
Tyler let out a laugh that sounded entirely too forced, a nervous rattle beneath his arrogant facade. “Officer, that’s absurd. An elderly neighbor with failing vision misinterpreting a family argument. Rachel was having a panic attack. I tried to help her out, but she lashed out at me, so I stepped away to give her space. The heat must have caused her to pass out afterward.”
“You drove away in my car?” I interrupted, stepping forward until I was inches from Tyler’s chest. The smell of expensive cologne mixed with sweat hung heavily around him. “Where is Rachel’s car key? It wasn't in the ignition. It wasn't in her purse. You took it with you.”
“I didn't take anything!” Tyler barked, losing his composure for a split second before catching himself. He looked around, realizing the paramedics were pausing their loading process to listen. A few other neighbors had drifted out onto their front porches.
“You’re making a scene, Diane,” Tyler said, lowering his voice into a dangerous hiss. “You’ve always hated me. You’re encouraging her delusions.”
“Officer,” I said, looking past Tyler to the uniformed man holding a notepad. “You don't need to guess what happened. My late husband, Arthur, was an engineer for the Department of Defense. He didn't just build a security system for the house; he hardwired external, wide-angle lenses across the entire property. Every single inch of this driveway, front lawn, and street is captured in high-definition video with multi-channel audio.”
Tyler’s face went completely, bloodlessly white. The arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by the panicked look of a cornered animal. Vanessa let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.
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“The cameras,” Tyler whispered, the words barely audible.
“Yes, Tyler,” I smiled, cold and sharp as the glass I had shattered minutes earlier. “Arthur’s cameras never sleep. And unlike Mrs. Alvarez’s eyes, a digital hard drive records every single second of cold-blooded, calculated attempted murder.”
