“Señor Rafael,” she said. “There’s a camera.”
He went still. “What?”
“The garden camera.” She did not raise her voice at all. “The one you installed last month to watch the gardener.”
Daniela’s face lost its colour.
“Which camera?” Rafael asked, blinking.
“That one.” Amparo lifted her chin toward the garage roofline. “It points straight at the pool. And it records sound.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to lean against.
Daniela took a step backward. “That — that thing doesn’t work properly,” she said, her voice climbing. “Those cameras never record right, Rafael, you know how—”
“It records,” Amparo said calmly. “I saw it working on Tuesday, when the gardener cut back the lemon tree.”
Rafael turned and looked at his sister-in-law. And for the first time all afternoon, he saw something on her face that did not belong there.
He saw fear.
“We’re watching the video,” he said. His voice had changed again.
