After she left, I examined the flower bed beneath the kitchen window. I found a screwdriver partly hidden under the shrubs. I didn't touch it. I photographed its position and called the officer, who arranged for it to be collected and logged. Bernard later wondered aloud whether Trevor had left it deliberately for another visit. I reminded him that we didn't know. The important fact was that an unfamiliar tool had appeared where the camera showed Trevor spending time.
The distinction between what we knew and what we suspected became a rule in our little group. Janet repeated it so often I could have printed it on our coffee mugs. A suspicion was a lead. A lead was not proof. And proof needed a clear source. Her caution made us slower, but it also kept us from building a case that Vivian could knock down by finding one exaggerated claim.
The first night after Martinez reviewed the videos, I slept badly. Every settling noise in the house woke me. Zoe was with Elena, so there was no need to listen for her footsteps, yet I found myself checking the hallway light anyway. At three, I stood in the doorway of her empty bedroom and looked at the pale green walls we'd painted together. A poster she'd made for art class hung over the desk. Gerald's picture was taped beside it. I realized I had begun associating the house not with comfort but with the possibility of someone violating it. That was a bitter thing to admit.
The next morning, I got an unexpected call from a man named Phil Mercer. He lived three streets over and had heard from Dolores that I was questioning the association's finances. Phil was a forensic accountant, recently retired from a regional audit firm. His voice was quiet and precise. He asked whether I had actual statements or only the summaries Vivian circulated.
"Mostly summaries," I said. "We're requesting the underlying records."
"Good. Don't tell anyone you found missing money until you've reconciled the accounts. People are remarkably creative about turning a bookkeeping error into evidence of a conspiracy."
"You sound like Janet."
"Then Janet is probably sensible. Would you like help reviewing the numbers when they arrive?"
I said yes so quickly that he laughed.
The association collected seventy-five dollars a month from seventy-eight homes. That was $5,850 each month, or $70,200 over a full year before late fees and any other lawful income. The neighborhood had common-area landscaping, some lights and irrigation, insurance, routine repairs, and administrative expenses. An honest budget should have explained how those obligations were funded, what money had been reserved for major repairs, and why each vendor was paid.
The summary Vivian posted on the website was surprisingly vague. It grouped large sums under community administration, resident services, and infrastructure enhancement without identifying vendors. There was no straightforward account of the fines collected from homeowners. Some reserve transfers appeared under general expenses without details. Phil did not call any of it theft at first. He called it poor transparency and asked for the general ledger, invoices, bank statements, vendor contracts, and board approval records.