“No. But the tracks… they lead right up to the windows. Looking inside.”
“I will come over right now,” Gareth said instantly. “Do not go out. Do not trample the tracks.”
I hung up and waited, the silence of the house suddenly feeling like a threat. If I had shoveled the driveway last night like Vernon asked, these tracks would be lost in the mess of my own work, or covered by the snow that fell later. But because I listened to the old woman, the fresh layer of snow had captured the intruder’s path perfectly.
Officer Pernell arrived in twenty minutes. He was a large, comforting presence in the kitchen, shaking snow off his heavy boots.
“Show me,” he said.
We went out onto the porch. The frosty air burned my lungs. Pernell squatted by the tracks.
“Boots, size 12, maybe 13,” he muttered. “Deep tread. Work boots. Came from the gate.” He traced the path with his eyes. “Circled the whole house. Checked every window.”
He stood up, brushing off his knees. “Mrs. Vance, any conflicts with neighbors?”
“No. We live quietly.”
“And your husband left at 7:00 PM?”
“Yes.”
“That means this person knew you were alone. Mrs. Vance, do any neighbors have cameras?”
“Mrs. Higgins across the street,” I said, remembering.
We crossed the snowy road to Mrs. Higgins’ house. She was a kind, gossipy soul who let us in immediately, flustered by the police presence. We stood in her living room as Gareth rewound the footage on her security system.
