Chapter 11: Front Camera

Waylon's POV

I heard her stop talking, and I knew where she was looking.

I turned the tap off.

Samantha stood at the table with her hand an inch from the tablet.

She wore my flannel shirt and nothing else.

I wished I had met this on any other morning.

"This was open when I came down," she said. "It's been open since last night, hasn't it? Or this morning."

"This morning."

"What's on it?"

"Samantha."

"What is on it, Waylon?"

I dried my hands on the dish towel and set it down.

"My front camera ran the whole time I was parked at the plaza," I said.

"It faces the van's side of the lot."

"I pulled it Saturday night, after I dropped you at the lake."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see how long the van had been out of the slot."

"And?"

"I watched your sister."

She didn't move.

"Show me."

"You don't have to see it."

"Show me, or I take the tablet."

I touched the screen.

The picture was clean and bright, from the cab, at an angle across forty feet of asphalt.

The van sat in its slot with the side door open.

Samantha's sister came out of the building alone and walked to the passenger side.

She had a phone in her hand, and it wasn't hers.

She stood with her back to the road and glanced once at the door.

Then she held the phone up in front of her face with both hands.

Her thumb moved.

She tapped through one screen, and then another.

Then she held her thumb down on something.

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