The Gate Opens

The phone on the island chimed.

Robert reached it first. A motion alert. Live feed.

He tapped the screen once, and the patio came up in sharp daylight: the cedar deck, the pool water, the empty gate.

Then a shadow crossed the frame.

Robert’s thumb froze over the screen.

At the edge of the video, red handles rose into view. Heavy bolt cutters. Then metal closed around brass with a hard clamp.

Owen saw it too. His hand stopped tearing at the hem.

Robert lifted the phone closer. The camera kept rolling. The gate shook once.

Then the lock gave way.

A dull scrape of hardened steel rasped against the cedar gate post.