Paige smiled.

“You did check that birdhouse camera about a thousand times,” she said.

We laughed, and I accepted the criticism.

I was a homeowner who had preserved important evidence.

I was not a flawless hero or a judge of everybody else’s life.

CHAPTER 48: THE RAIN GARDEN

David Mercer proposed creating a small rain garden on his side of the Caldwell property.

He wanted to capture ordinary surface runoff without obstructing the established drainage route.

Before planting anything, he asked the county for guidance and hired a professional to check the layout.

He invited neighbors to help plant native flowers after the plans were reviewed.

Paige volunteered immediately.

I joined her on a Saturday morning, wearing old jeans and carrying a shovel Ben had owned.

Alma brought lemonade, and Elaine kept track of the plants so nobody placed them in the maintenance access.

David had marked the boundaries with string and explained why the low plants belonged in one area while taller shrubs needed more room.

The event reminded me of the photograph of Ben and Gloria from years ago.

I found myself looking toward Gloria’s house across the street.

Her curtains were open, but I could not tell whether she was watching.

Nobody invited her that day because she had not joined neighborhood events since the dispute.

I felt an unexpected sadness at the empty place where she might once have helped.

Then I reminded myself that participation required respecting the people who shared the work.

The garden would not cure the neighborhood’s history.

It would provide one practical improvement that residents had agreed on freely.

When we finished, David thanked everyone and asked us to return in a month to see whether the plants had survived.

Paige looked at the fresh soil and said it was the first hole in the neighborhood she was glad somebody had dug.

CHAPTER 49: THE ORIGINAL VIDEO

A year after the incident, my phone automatically suggested a collection of photographs labeled as memories.

The first thumbnail showed the pool covered with floating trash.

I had not watched the recording in months.

For a moment, I considered deleting it from the everyday gallery.

Then I decided to preserve the original in the secure case folder and remove the duplicate from my personal photo feed.

I checked the backup and verified that the important files remained intact.

The distinction felt useful.

Evidence could remain available without surprising me during ordinary moments with Paige.

I also reviewed our security settings with a technician.