CHAPTER ELEVEN — THE BLUE VAN
The following Thursday, a blue panel van arrived outside Carol’s house just after sundown.
Daniel noticed it because its driver parked directly beneath the streetlamp and left the engine running.
A man in an orange jacket stepped out and walked toward Carol’s door.
Daniel called Ortiz before the man reached the porch.
Carol opened the door a few inches, then immediately tried to shut it.
The man put one hand against the frame.
Daniel could not hear their words, but he saw Carol shaking her head.
She stepped backward and disappeared into the house.
The driver followed her inside without visible permission.
Daniel reported that to the dispatcher and stayed behind his locked front door.
He had barely finished speaking when a second man approached his garage.
The stranger looked up at the new security camera Daniel had installed on Tuesday.
He wore a hood and kept his face turned away.
Daniel switched on the exterior lights and spoke through the intercom.
“You are on private property.”
The stranger stopped and stared at the camera.
“Mr. Grane wants to discuss a misunderstanding,” he said.
“He can talk to Agent Ortiz.”
The man laughed once and stepped back toward the sidewalk.
Daniel watched him retreat, then heard a loud crash from Carol’s house.
Her front window lit up as a lamp fell sideways.
Daniel called emergency services again.
He wanted to run across the street, but another stranger remained outside his gate.
Within minutes two patrol cars arrived, followed by an unmarked sedan.
Officers entered Carol’s house and led out the man in the orange jacket.
Carol emerged behind them holding her left forearm.
She appeared shaken but able to walk.
An ambulance crew examined her while Sethi spoke to the driver.
The second stranger had vanished before officers reached Daniel’s gate.
When Ortiz arrived, Carol told her that the driver had demanded the inventory notebooks.
He claimed Grane had promised she would lose her house if the company suffered financial damage.
Carol refused to discuss the list.
The man tried to push past her toward the kitchen, and she knocked over a lamp while reaching for her telephone.
Daniel listened from his porch as Carol spoke to Ortiz.
He was relieved that she had finally called for help instead of trying to manage the threat alone.
Then Carol mentioned something that made Ortiz stop writing.
“He said the last lot had been sold,” Carol whispered.
“He said the buyer wanted the objects stripped of names before Monday.”
Ortiz asked which lot.
“The depot across the state line,” Carol answered.
“He said they needed my notebooks to find the matching labels.”
Daniel thought of Andre’s height chart.
The pencil marks on its edge were not valuable to an antique dealer.
They were the entire reason Andre wanted it returned.
The idea of someone sanding those marks away made Daniel feel physically sick.
Ortiz asked Carol whether she could identify the driver.
Carol nodded.
“His name is Darren Kline.”
“He lives two towns east, and I wrote down the plate number on his second van.”
She recited the number from memory.
Daniel nearly smiled despite himself.
Carol had spent years recording neighborhood license plates for petty complaints.
For once, she had recorded a number that could help someone beyond herself.
But the smile vanished when he saw her shaking hands.
Carol had not become brave overnight.
She was simply choosing to tell the truth while afraid.
