She carried the small box to the living room and opened it with trembling fingers. The cameras were smaller than she expected. Almost delicate. She held one between her thumb and forefinger and stared at the lens.
It stared back, indifferent. Julie moved through the house with silent precision, placing devices where they would blend in: behind a photo frame angled toward the couch, near the bookshelf facing the open space, tucked near the hallway mirror. One in the kitchen corner catching the back door. One aimed at the front entrance.