My Brother Hid a Recording Module Beneath His Daughter’s Dining Chair

“My house.

My chair.

I can inspect my own furniture.”

“On the recording,” Elena said, “you look under the seat, then at the door.

Twice.

Then you take the device and walk toward the stairwell, where the camera loses you.”

Marcus shifted in his chair.

“You’re describing a man checking a loose screw.”