In the Walls

I needed to get to the van and drive until I hit cell service. I grabbed my keys

from the kitchen counter. I didn't bother packing the equipment. To hell with the

blower door. To hell with the $2000 thermal camera lying on the floor. I ran to the front

door and grabbed the handle. It was locked. I twisted the deadbolt thumb-turn.

It wouldn't budge. I twisted harder, panic rising. It felt jammed. Mechanical failure?

I looked at the thermal camera, which was still on the floor where I'd dropped it,

screen facing me. It was aimed down the hallway, towards the living room.

There was a heat signature standing in the open archway between the living room and the kitchen.