THE EMPTY INVENTORY

The note vanished into Daniel’s jacket pocket as the three of them retreated downstairs, shaken and acutely aware that they were being played by someone intimately familiar with their daily routines. They piled back into the grey sedan, the interior feeling less like a vehicle and more like a mobile command center. Helen gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, while Daniel sat in the passenger seat, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees.

“Hotspot my phone,” Daniel muttered, tapping the trackpad of his computer. The screen cast a cool blue glow across his face. “If Vance’s phone was left up there, it means he was just here moments before we unlocked the front door. Which means he’s either still on the property or using a local relay.”

Sarah leaned over the center console from the back seat, her eyes scanning the flickering terminal windows as Daniel brought up a network scanner. “Look at the local Wi-Fi SSIDs,” she pointed out, tapping a slender finger against the glass screen. “There’s an active router broadcasting from inside the detached garage out back.”

Daniel blinked, adjusting his focus. Sure enough, a hidden network labeled ‘ET-427-Admin’ was broadcasting at full signal strength from less than fifty feet away.

“A smart-home relay system,” Daniel realized aloud. “The title company mentioned the house was outfitted with a modern security and automation hub. If Vance set up the network, he might have left a backdoor open into the local surveillance feed.”

Without waiting for agreement, Daniel slammed the laptop shut, grabbed his jacket, and pushed the car door open. “Stay here,” he instructed his wife and mother.

“Daniel, no,” Sarah protested, but he was already striding across the unpaved driveway toward the weathered wooden garage situated at the rear of the property. The structure looked older than the house itself, its white paint peeling in long strips like sunburned skin.

The garage door was a heavy sliding panel fitted with a modern electronic keypad. Daniel approached it, staring at the small, glowing blue numbers. On a hunch, he punched in the date of their wedding anniversary—the same combination he had used to set up the house’s primary smart lock earlier that month.

With a soft electronic chime, the green LED light flashed, and the heavy wooden door slowly slid open along its overhead track, groaning against the damp afternoon air.

Inside, illuminated by a single overhead fluorescent bulb that buzzed angrily, sat a folding table, a high-end laptop wired into a mobile server rack, and a series of monitors displaying live video feeds of the entire front porch and living room.