For the next few nights, Ellen hardly slept. Each morning, she rushed to check the footage, only to find mostly just rain drifting through lamplight, leaves trembling under wind, and stray cats darting between headstones. Her frustration mounted. Maybe whoever it was had stopped, sensing they were being watched.
By the fourth night, fatigue dulled her hope. She almost didn’t check the camera at all, until she saw the blinking notification: motion detected at 2:37 a.m. Her pulse spiked. Ellen fumbled with the buttons, hands clumsy, breath catching as the screen flickered to life.