Brown rainwater surrounded Vanessa’s SUV, reaching halfway up its wheels.

Mud streaked the white doors, and water dripped through the open sunroof onto those precious cream seats.

“You did this because I wouldn’t drive Emma!” Vanessa shouted.

“I was home all night,” I said.

“Why was your sunroof open?”

Her expression flickered.

Then Sophie appeared at their front door.

“Mom, you said the rain would teach her a lesson.”

Vanessa spun around.

“Go inside!”

Before I could ask what Sophie meant, our neighbor, Mr.

Harris, stepped onto his porch holding his phone.

“My doorbell camera recorded everything,” he said.

“Someone was beside that storm drain at eleven forty-three last night.”

Vanessa went still.

“What does that have to do with my car?” she demanded.

Mr.

Harris walked closer and turned the screen toward us.

The video showed a hooded figure dragging bags of leaves into the drain between our houses.

Vanessa reached for his phone.

“Turn that off!”

But Sophie stared at the frozen image and whispered, “Mom…

that’s your yellow raincoat.”

Mr.

Harris pressed play again—and what Vanessa did next made my stomach drop.

Why was Vanessa blocking the drain, and what was she really trying to do to Emma’s family?

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