Chapter 4 - The Secret in the Garden
The computer took three seconds to boot up. The screen flared to life, showing Valentina’s desktop wallpaper: a photo of our golden retriever running through autumn leaves, overlaid with colorful digital stickers she had drawn herself.
Her video editing software was still minimized on the dock.
"She never leaves her projects open unless she was interrupted in the middle of working," I noted, remembering how quickly she had packed her backpack when Daniel brought her home on Sunday afternoon.
Daniel clicked the icon. The project timeline expanded across the 14-inch screen.
The project was titled: *The Secret Life of Birds in Grandma’s Garden.*
Valentina had set up her little high-definition vlogging camera on a tripod next to the hydrangeas near the back patio, pointing it toward the bird feeder. The first forty minutes of footage were completely mundane: sparrows hopping on the lawn, the wind rustling through the weeping willow, and the distant hum of a lawnmower down the street.
Daniel grabbed the mouse and dragged the scrubber along the timeline.
Around the forty-five-minute mark, the camera's wide-angle lens captured two figures walking out onto the covered stone patio: Renata, holding a glass of iced tea, and her eldest son, Julian.
Julian was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his greasy hair, smoking a cigarette—a habit he strictly hid from his father.
"Keep the volume low," I whispered, glancing anxiously toward the hallway.
Daniel plugged in his headphones and handed me one earbud. We leaned in close, staring at the screen.
The patio microphone picked up their voices with terrifying clarity.
*"Julian, you need to calm down,"* Renata’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and commanding. *"Your father was asleep when the certified letter arrived. I intercepted the mail carrier. It's in my purse."*
*"Calm down?"* Julian’s voice cracked with hysteria. He was sweating, his face bloated and pale on the high-definition monitor. *"Mom, it’s an IRS audit notification! They’re looking at the corporate filings for my logistics company from 2022 and 2023! They know the business has zero revenue! They’re going to trace the payroll deposits directly back to the trust account you set up!"*
*"They won't trace anything if you keep your mouth shut,"* Renata snapped. *"The trust is registered under a family exemption. As long as the primary beneficiaries don't demand an accounting, the state has no reason to pull the full bank records."*
*"And what happens when Daniel asks?"* Julian shouted, waving his cigarette wildly. *"Mateo told me last week that Daniel was talking about setting up a high-yield college account for Valentina's ninth birthday! If Daniel goes to the trustee at First Heritage, the whole house of cards collapses! Dad will find out I blew his retirement money, the feds will indict me for wire fraud, and Patricia will take the kids and leave!"*
Renata took a slow sip of her iced tea. Her expression on screen was chillingly cold—calculating, remorseless, entirely devoid of the sweet grandmother persona she presented at church picnics.
*"Daniel won't ask,"* Renata said calmly. *"I’ll handle Daniel. I always handle Daniel. He feels guilty because he moved thirty minutes away and doesn't visit every weekend. A little guilt goes a long way with that boy."*
*"That’s not enough anymore!"* Julian groaned, dropping into one of the wicker patio chairs with his head in his hands. *"I owe thirty-four thousand dollars to private creditors, Mom. They came to my house yesterday. They took pictures of Mateo getting onto the school bus! They said if I don't pay by Friday, they're going to my father-in-law."*
Renata clicked her tongue in disgust. *"You are a fool, Julian. An absolute fool. Where did the eighteen thousand go that I pulled last month?"*
*"The boat, okay? I had to pay the slip fees and the maintenance or they were going to impound it!"*
Renata rubbed her temples, looking out across the lawn.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped directly toward the flower bed.
Right at the tripod.
On the video, you could see the exact moment Renata realized what was happening. Her eyes widened behind her designer glasses. She stepped to the edge of the patio, staring down at the little red recording light blinking innocently among the green hydrangea leaves.
*"Julian..."* she whispered, her voice suddenly trembling. *"Whose camera is that?"*
Julian looked up. *"What? It’s Valentina’s. She was out here filming squirrels earlier. She went inside to use the bathroom."*
*"Is it recording?"*
Julian stood up, walking toward the camera. His giant, blurred face filled the screen for a second as he bent down to inspect it.
*"Yeah. The red light is on. The timer says forty-eight minutes."*
Renata’s voice turned into a shriek that pierced our headphones.
*"Shut it off! Did she hear us? Did she hear what you said about the IRS?"*
*"I don't know!"* Julian panicked. *"She was inside! But the audio... Mom, this mic is directional! It records everything within thirty feet!"*
Then came the sound of the patio door sliding open. Valentina’s small, cheerful voice echoed through the speaker:
*"Grandma? Are the cookies ready?"*
May you like
The video cut abruptly to black.
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