The following day, Brock heads to work, and this time, Officer Lopez arrives almost simultaneously with his departure, so I don't find myself alone. With the knowledge that we'll soon be on our way to NYC, I keep myself busy by doing laundry and tidying up the house. Snowfall has resumed, and I hope it won't persist. The last thing we need is a delayed or canceled flight.
After sweeping the kitchen and bathrooms, I remove the mop from the closet and attach a Swiffer pad. I'm cautious not to use too much cleaner as I'm running low. Bending down with a sponge, I meticulously clean the baseboards, observing the little chips accumulated from years of wear. I make a mental note to repaint them once this ordeal is behind us.
Officer Lopez moves in and out of the house throughout the day, but I feel secure with Herc, who remains vigilant. Every slight noise alerts him, yet I don't hear anything similar to yesterday's unsettling incident. I hope they've been deterred for good.
Winter brings its own advantages, as the snowfall creates obstacles for intruders attempting to gain entry to a home. The Ring alarm system has proven invaluable. Suddenly, I remembered the Ring video footage from yesterday. It might have captured the intruder entering the garage. We have cameras both in the front and back.
I retrieve my phone from the living room side table and open the Ring app. Clicking on yesterday's video, I watch closely. It doesn't take long before I spot a shadow passing at the corner of the screen. The individual is dressed in a black jacket and dark blue jeans and appears at least 5'10" tall, with hands in their pockets. Their eyes dart around nervously. I wish I could enhance the image, but I'll leave that to the police. Maybe they can obtain a clearer view if I share the recording with Gray.
At least I have evidence now. Officer Lopez returns shortly after I finish cleaning, and I unlock the door for her. She's stomping her feet on the doormat.
"The snow's really coming down out there. Sorry, I took a bit longer. Everything okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, I managed to clean the house. Also, I checked the Ring app for footage from yesterday and found something." I hand her the phone, and she sits down to take a look, squinting as she observes.
"This is great, Patrice. I want Chief to see this." She retrieves her phone and calls him instead of using the button on her shoulder. "Hey, Chief, we have some video footage from yesterday from The Summer's Ring camera. Can you drop by and check it out?" She nods. "Okay, I'll stay here until Mr. Summers gets home."
After the call, Officer Lopez informs me that Gray will arrive in about an hour to examine the footage. I hope he can get a clearer view of the person.
She had gone to the store earlier and picked up groceries to last us until our departure in forty-eight hours. I'm hungry when I retrieve the ingredients for a ham sandwich from the fridge, noticing the abundance of leftovers from previous meals. I'll need to clean out the fridge soon, but for now, I throw out some containers with sprouted green fuzz.
I make sandwiches for Officer Lopez and myself, adding juice, chips, and some melon to the meal. It's not easy to find ripe melons in February, but I had told Officer Lopez to look for ones with a yellow bottom and a web-like exterior – signs of ripeness. I cut up the cantaloupe and honeydew melon and serve them in two bowls.
We eat in silence, awaiting Gray's arrival. True to his word, he shows up approximately an hour later to review the Ring video recording. "This is good footage. You can see his face quite clearly. He appears to be about 6 feet tall," Gray observes, snapping a photo with his phone. "I'll pass this along to my deputies and see if we can get a match from the criminal database. Can you send me this information?"
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, taking back my phone. I had never tried to send video footage to anyone before, but I should be able to; I just need to do some research first.
Later that night, when Gray and Officer Lopez leave, I pick up my laptop and start surfing on how to send the video to Gray. Brock’s been working on his case, but at least he’s beside me, and I feel safe.
It's Saturday morning, and we're ready to head to the airport. Thankfully, it's a beautiful, sunny day. Officer Lopez came and picked up Herc the night before so we could focus on getting ready. Our flight leaves around noon, but I want to be at the airport no later than 10:00 a.m. It’s a 40-minute drive, at least.
I do one quick check to ensure I have everything I need, especially the 2oz bottles we’re only allowed to have for personal use, which is stupid. What harm is a bottle of lotion, for crying out loud?
I found a way to send the Ring footage to Gray so he could check the face with the criminal database. He said he would contact me if there’s a match or if his investigators are able to get any identifying information.
We ordered an Uber to pick us up at 9:15, and it’s nearly 9:00. I go around the house to check all the doors and windows. We leave a light on and have the porch lights programmed to come on around 6:00 P.M. In the back, we also have motion lights and, of course, our cameras. If anyone tries to come around and break in, we’ll see them.
I get a text fifteen minutes later saying the Uber driver is arriving. Brock takes out suitcases while I take the carry-on and my purse. As we head out, the sun shines on my face. I look around and down the street, and it looks as normal as it always has, and on one hand, I pray it stays that way while we’re gone. Yet, on the other hand, I want this intruder to try breaking in again so we can catch them in the act.
On the way to the airport, Brock is working on his laptop to get some last-minute case details taken care of, and then we can forget about work, the police, the recorder, and Troy’s death, burial, and suspects.
I check when we go through the airport doors and notice it’s nearly 10:00. Perfect. I would rather be early than late and possibly miss our fight. You never know how long the TSA lines are, if the plane is early, or if a mishap occurs.
At close to noon, we can board the plane. I sit down in First Class and sigh deeply. In five hours, we will be in the heart of New York, and we can disappear for a bit.
As we ascend, I see the skyline fade to clear blue skies. I remove my earbuds, turn on my phone, and listen to my relaxing playlist. Shortly after, my eyes feel heavy with the soft music lulling me to sleep. I awake to the captain saying we are making our descent into NYC.
I rub my eyes and see Brock also waking up. “Good nap?” He says, putting his seat and tray in the upright position for landing.
“Yeah. I don’t usually sleep on a plane, but I think everything has taken a toll on me, and I just crashed.”
“Same. Let’s enjoy this trip and hope Gray and his detectives can nab this person. Oh, and I got a hold of Jeff from Long Island, and he said we could come visit anytime.” I had completely forgotten that Brock wanted to visit him. I still can’t shake the feeling that this same Jeff could be the husband of Troy’s lover. But who knows? I don’t want to worry about that now.
When we get to our Manhattan Hotel, The Hilton Suites, it’s nearly 1:30, and I’m starving. “Let’s go eat,” I say as I finish unpacking my items. The hotel is a four-star establishment, and I can see why. I lay my toothbrush, paste, and other items on the white and gray swirled marble bathroom counter and glance over to the jetted tub, which looks incredibly inviting. All the gold faucets are sparkling clean, with plush towels laying neatly folded on a gold rack over the toilet, which features a bidet. I always wanted one, but Brock hates them – says you have to use more toilet paper to dry when the blast air hits you.
We opted for two rooms, one with a king-size bed and large flat-screen TV, and the other, a living room with a comfortable deep blue couch and chair, a deep cherry oak coffee table, and a matching desk. The kitchen sports the same marbled counters as the bathroom, with a microwave, fridge, coffee pot, and a double sink. The plush cerulean blue carpet offsets taupe-painted walls and two framed paintings of Lilies in the Field and Field of Poppies by Claude Monet at the head of the bed and over the TV.
I open the sliding glass door and peer out at the towering buildings that make up the NYC skyline. We’re on the 13th floor.
“I’m ready. Let’s go,” Brock says, raking a comb through his hair and following me to the door. I want to enjoy this time and unwind from the last six months.
The last thought I have before we walk into the elevator is that if Gray can’t find this person while we’re gone, when we get back, we’re in the same situation.
And then what?
