Chapter Eight
Against my better judgment, I allowed Harry Gale to have the surveillance equipment installed in one of my upstairs bedrooms—not the attic. I nixed that idea, realizing how the room itself would compromise my privacy should another s****l scene take place on the third floor of Harry’s house. It would be better that he was unaware of my lofty roost. Besides, the space was still sacred to me.
I prudently watched the three technicians bring in four small TV screens and the other paraphernalia necessary to set-up a high-tech surveillance of the Gale house. They worked efficiently and had one corner of that bedroom turned into a monitoring workstation within several hours. All this felt sleazy and I toyed with the idea of sending them packing. Why the hell was I doing this in th
