They simply stood near the outlet.
Then they walked away.
Daniel recognized the clothes.
Karen.
He called her.
She answered.
“Why were you at my garage at midnight?”
Silence.
Then Karen said:
“I was checking something.”
“What?”
Another silence.
Daniel realized she had been trying to determine whether he had installed something to prevent another connection.
The next morning, Daniel installed a lockable cover over the exterior outlet.
He also repositioned the camera so the driveway and side of the garage were clearly visible.
There would be no more guessing.
Still, he wondered why Karen had returned.
Had she been planning to charge again?
Or was something else happening?
The answer arrived sooner than he expected.
A week later, Karen’s SUV stopped working.
And Daniel was the person she came to ask for help.
Chapter 5: The Knock at 6:40 A.M.
Karen knocked on Daniel’s front door at 6:40 the following Saturday morning.
Not rang the bell.
Knocked.
Hard.
Repeatedly.
Daniel woke before Susan did and walked downstairs in sweatpants and an old T-shirt, already irritated before he reached the foyer. Through the narrow window beside the door, he could see Karen standing on the porch with her arms folded and her dark SUV stopped crookedly across the end of his driveway.
He opened the door halfway.
“What happened?”
Karen looked different.
No oversized sunglasses.
No confident smile.
Her dark hair had been pulled into a loose knot, and there were deep circles beneath her eyes.
“My car won’t start.”
Daniel stared.
“And?”
“I need help.”
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Daniel looked past her toward the SUV.
“You have roadside assistance?”
“They said two hours.”
“Then wait two hours.”
Karen’s face tightened.
“I have somewhere I need to be.”
Daniel almost closed the door.
Then she said:
“It happened after I charged it.”
Daniel stopped.
“Where?”
Karen looked away.
“My house.”
“With what charger?”
Silence.
Daniel stepped onto the porch.
“What charger, Karen?”
“The portable one.”
“The same one you used here?”
She nodded.
Daniel stared at the SUV.
“What exactly happened?”
Karen rubbed her hands together.
“It charged for maybe forty minutes. Then there was a clicking sound. The dashboard started flashing. Now it won’t go into drive.”
Daniel had worked in industrial maintenance before retirement. He was not an electric-vehicle technician, but he knew enough about electrical systems to understand that unusual clicking, charging faults, and a disabled vehicle were not something to casually troubleshoot with an extension cord in a driveway.
“Disconnect everything.”
“I already did.”
“Don't plug it into anything again.”
Karen rolled her eyes almost automatically.
“I know that.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Do you?”
She stopped.
Susan appeared behind him wearing a robe.
“What’s going on?”
“Karen’s car won’t start.”
Susan looked toward the SUV.
Then at Karen.
“And she came here?”
Karen said:
“I just need him to look at it.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Karen’s expression changed.
“You know electrical systems.”
“I know enough not to pretend I’m qualified to repair a high-voltage vehicle.”
“I’m not asking you to repair it.”