Six fragments.
One brown.
Three clear.
Two green.
Different bottles.
Marcus's thirteen-year-old niece, Lila, had planned to swim that afternoon.
He canceled.
Wednesday, he found what looked like the bottom half of a broken wine bottle near the steps.
That was when coincidence ended.
Someone was putting glass into the water.
Deliberately.
Marcus called a pool service.
They inspected the filtration system.
No mechanical explanation.
No construction debris.
No neighboring work.
The technician looked at Marcus.
“Somebody's doing this.”
Marcus already knew.
Now, at 6:17 on Thursday morning, he watched Victoria Hale drag the contractor sack toward the pool.
She stopped beside the deep end.
Looked around.
Then opened the bag.
Marcus zoomed in.
The screen sharpened.
Broken bottles.
Dozens of them.
Victoria reached inside.
She lifted a handful.
Then scattered them into the water.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She paused.
Then tossed the remaining pieces.
The sound came through the camera microphone.
Tiny splashes.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Not because he was surprised.
Because he was angry.
Very angry.
But he had learned something during the past week.
Anger was useful only if you controlled it.
He opened the camera's recording archive.
The footage automatically backed up to an external server.
Timestamp.
Location.
Motion detection.
Audio.
Everything.
Marcus started a new recording on his phone.
He whispered:
“Thursday, September twenty-fourth. Six seventeen a.m. Victoria Hale enters my property after cutting the side-gate lock. She is carrying broken glass and deliberately placing it into my swimming pool.”
He paused.
Then added:
“I'm not confronting her.”
That last sentence mattered.
Marcus had no intention of giving Victoria an excuse to turn herself into the victim.
He watched as she finished.
Victoria stepped toward the pool ladder.
She crouched.
For a moment, Marcus thought she was going to inspect the water.