I was standing barefoot in my driveway at 12:47 in the morning when I saw the orange extension cord running from my house to my neighbor’s electric car.

At first, I thought I was looking at it wrong.

I followed the cord with my eyes.

One end disappeared into the charging port of the blue SUV parked next door.

The other end was plugged into the outdoor outlet beside my garage.

Then my neighbor, Heather Collins, stepped through the opening between our hedges.

She froze when she saw me.

I pointed at the cord.

“Heather. Why is your car plugged into my house?”

She looked at the outlet, then back at me.

What surprised me wasn’t that she had been caught.

It was how little it seemed to bother her.

“Oh, Margaret. It’s not a big deal.”

I stared at her.

“You’re using my electricity.”

She gave a tired little sigh.

“I have three kids. Mark is gone half the month for work. You live here by yourself.”

For a second, I thought I had misunderstood her.

“What does my living alone have to do with it?”

Heather shrugged.

“I’m saying your bills can’t be that high.”

I bent down and unplugged the cord.

“They are now.”

Her expression changed.

“Seriously?”

I carried the end of the cord toward her driveway and dropped it on the grass.

“Stay out of my yard.”

She picked it up.

“Margaret, it’s electricity. I’m not stealing your jewelry.”

Then she walked home.

That sentence kept me awake until nearly three.

The Bill That Made Me Go Outside

I’m sixty-four years old, and I’ve lived in that house outside Columbus, Ohio, for twenty-seven years.

My husband, Raymond, died four years ago.

Since then, the house has been quiet.

I know approximately what everything costs because I’m the only person using it.

So when my electric bill jumped from its usual range to $286, I called the utility company.

The woman on the phone told me there had been a significant increase in overnight usage.

That made no sense.

I’m usually asleep by ten-thirty.

The following night, I stayed awake.

At 12:47, I heard something scrape lightly against the siding near the garage.

That was when I found Heather.

But the strange thing was, once I saw her standing there with that extension cord, other things began bothering me.

Three months earlier, I had noticed my green garden hose coiled beside Heather’s garage.

When I asked about it, she said one of her children must have carried it over.

She returned it.

A few weeks later, my aluminum stepladder disappeared.

I found it leaning against her backyard fence.

“Mark borrowed it,” Heather told me.

Mark later looked genuinely confused when I mentioned it.

Then there were two ceramic planters from my back patio.

Heather said she thought I was throwing them away.

I wasn’t.

I had let each incident go because arguing with the woman next door seemed exhausting.

Raymond used to say I would apologize to a burglar for making him climb through a window.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

The next morning, I walked around my yard.

I checked the shed.

The garage.

The side gate.

Then I stopped beside the rosebushes.

There had been a small statue of Saint Michael there for almost fifteen years.

Raymond bought it during a road trip we took shortly after his retirement.

It wasn’t valuable.

But every spring, when I trimmed the roses, I cleaned that statue.

Now the stone base was empty.

I already knew where to look.

Heather’s backyard gate was open.

From the sidewalk, I could see the statue sitting beside her patio.

Except now its wings had been painted gold.

I stood there for several seconds.

Then I walked into my garage, took my gardening gloves, and went next door.

Heather came outside while I was lifting it.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking this home.”

She folded her arms.

“I thought you didn’t want it anymore.”

“Why would you think that?”

She didn’t answer.

I lifted the statue.

“You painted it.”

“It looked old.”

I looked at her.

“Raymond gave me this.”

That finally made her quiet.

I carried Saint Michael back across the lawn and put him beside the roses.

The gold paint looked ridiculous in the morning sunlight.

I left it there anyway.

Then I drove to an electronics store.

I bought one small security camera.

At 1:16 A.M., She Came Back

I positioned the camera so it covered my side gate, the garage wall, and the outdoor outlet.

I didn’t point it toward Heather’s windows or backyard.

I only wanted to see who entered my property.

That evening, I put a small piece of painter’s tape across the outlet cover.

Then I went inside.

At 1:16 the next morning, my phone buzzed.

Motion detected.

I opened the camera feed.

Heather was standing beside my garage.

She had the charging cable in one hand.

She peeled off the tape, opened the outlet cover, and plugged something in.

Then she walked back toward her driveway.

I put on my robe, grabbed my phone, and went outside.

“Heather.”

She spun around.

This time I was already recording.

“Unplug it.”

She looked at my phone.

“Are you filming me?”

“You’re on my property.”

“You cannot record me without permission.”

“Then leave my property.”

Her voice rose.

“Turn that off.”

Porch lights started coming on.

Across the street, my neighbor Dale opened his front door.

Two houses down, Linda Mercer stepped onto her porch.

Heather pointed at my phone.

“She’s filming me in the middle of the night!”

Dale looked at the cord.

“Is that plugged into Margaret’s house?”

Heather didn’t answer.

Linda walked closer.

“Heather, is that my extension cord?”

Everyone went quiet.

Heather looked down.

The orange cord had LINDA M. written along the side in black marker.

“I borrowed it.”

Linda stared at her.

“You never asked me.”

Dale gave a short laugh without smiling.

“Like my ladder?”

Heather turned toward him.

“Your ladder was outside.”

“Outside my garage.”

Another neighbor, Paul, had come over by then.

He looked toward Heather’s house.

“What about my son’s bike?”

Heather’s face tightened.

“Are we seriously doing this at one in the morning?”

I unplugged the cord.

“No. We’re doing it tomorrow.”

She looked at me.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I closed the outlet cover.

“I sent my electric bills and tonight’s video to the homeowners association.”