sounded surprised.
I rarely called on weekdays.
“I need one of those cameras.”
There was a pause.
“What happened?”
So I told her.
The missing fuel.
The notebook.
Dave’s inspection.
My fear that maybe I was forgetting things.
Katie listened quietly.
When I finished, she said,
“Grandpa, someone is stealing your gas.”
“You really think so?”
“I’m almost certain.”
She ordered the camera that evening.
Two days later, it arrived.
She talked me through installation over the phone.
At least forty minutes of:
“No, Grandpa, rotate the bracket.”
“This way?”
“The other way.”
Eventually, we aimed the camera directly toward the pickup.
“Now we wait,” she said.
Then her voice became serious.
“And you promise me you won’t go outside in the middle of the night if you catch somebody.”
“I promise.”
The first two nights showed nothing.
A cat.
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Branches moving.
Empty pavement.
The third night showed
