I left feeling less isolated, though I knew public opinion could shift again with the next rumor.
Outside the library, Felix approached me under the awning.
Rain spattered the pavement beside his shoes.
“I should have spoken sooner,” he said.
I asked why he had not.
“I didn’t want to get involved in a neighbor fight.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think I do anymore,” he replied.
He offered to give a written statement about the morning he saw the purple coat and the garbage bags.
I accepted and gave him Morse’s contact information.
We parted in the parking lot without discussing Vivian’s business.
That evening, my supervisor called to ask whether I was ready to return to full recording duties.
I said yes, although I was not certain I could concentrate.
She assigned me an interview with a retired firefighter who had helped build emergency shelters after a hurricane.
The man’s voice was steady, and his memories were full of details about ordinary people sharing water, medicine, and blankets.
He described how frightened families sometimes lashed out at the people trying to help them.
“You could take the shouting personally,” he said on the recording.
“Or you could remember that fear often makes people behave badly.”
I paused the audio and thought of Miles, June, and the woman in the green bathrobe.
Fear explained many choices in Vivian’s orbit.
It did not excuse what Vivian had done with that fear.
I continued editing until after midnight.
The work felt grounding because the recording could be cleaned without changing what the man meant.
I wished real life offered that kind of control.
The next morning, I received a written request from Detective Morse for copies of specific timestamps from my backyard recordings.
He asked for the full original files and a note explaining how my cameras’ clocks were synchronized.
I provided both.
He later called to say investigators had independently obtained several records that would help establish who had entered the property and who had prepared the threatening messages.
He could not discuss details yet.
I asked whether the evidence showed Vivian had acted alone.
“Not entirely,” he said.
I thought immediately of the hooded figure and the anonymous photograph of Lucy’s bedroom.
“Should I be worried about someone else?”
“We are following that question,” he answered.
“If we identify a specific threat, we’ll tell you what we can.”
After the call, I checked the front door lock twice.
