Chapter 2: The Camera Footage
David did not call the police that afternoon.
He called the HOA property manager.
Karen heard him speaking from the patio and immediately climbed out of the pool.
The escape was less dignified than her entrance.
The inflatable float caught around her waist, forcing her to wrestle with it while David stepped back to give her room. Her sunglasses slipped sideways. One flip-flop remained in the shallow end.
Mrs. Ellis continued filming from across the street.
Karen finally reached the patio, grabbed her towel, and wrapped it around herself.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
David said nothing.
He simply watched her walk toward the side gate.
Before leaving, Karen turned around.
“You’ll regret making this into a neighborhood issue.”
David looked at the open gate.
“I didn’t make it an issue.”
Karen stared at him.
“You embarrassed me.”
“You climbed into my private pool.”
She walked away without answering.
That evening, David reviewed the security footage.
The camera showed Karen entering through the side gate at 2:14 p.m.
She had looked around first.
Then she pulled the gate closed behind herself.
She was carrying the towel.
She had even checked the patio furniture before getting into the pool.
It wasn’t spontaneous.
It was planned.
David saved the recording.
Then he searched through older footage.
Three weeks earlier, Karen had walked behind his house while he was away.
Two weeks earlier, she had entered his driveway and looked inside his garage.
And six days before the pool incident, she had opened the community maintenance shed.
David froze the footage.
Karen was holding something in her hand.
A brass key.
The same kind used for several common-area facilities.
The next morning, David brought the footage to the HOA office.
The property manager, Linda Carver, watched it twice.
Then she opened a drawer.
Inside was a small key log.
One key was missing.
Linda looked at David.
“We’ve been trying to figure out who took it.”
David stared at the log.
“Karen?”
Linda didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she turned the page.
The missing key had been signed out under a handwritten note:
Property inspection.
There was no authorization beside it.
And the handwriting looked suspiciously familiar.
