I wanted the food ready so we could spend the afternoon talking rather than running back and forth to the kitchen.
At noon, Leah asked me to bring in another tray.
I turned down the grill, moved the cooked food onto the covered table, and went inside.
The sliding patio door remained closed because the air conditioning was running.
Jasmine and her cousin were upstairs playing a board game.
Leah was in the pantry looking for serving utensils.
And for a few minutes, the backyard was empty.
That was when Vivian entered through the side gate.
I happened to glance through the patio doors while reaching for a tray.
I saw her bright-pink blouse.
Her blonde hair.
And the black handbag hanging from her arm.
At first, I thought she was coming to complain about the cookout.
I almost opened the door.
Then I noticed the transparent container in her hand.
And watched her begin sprinkling white powder over the steaks.
I stopped moving.
For one moment, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Then my instincts caught up.
I pulled out my phone.
Started recording.
And witnessed the beginning of the most frightening afternoon my family had ever experienced.
I watched Vivian leave through the gate.
Then I locked the patio door.
Leah stood behind me, staring at the video on my phone.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The recording was clear enough to show Vivian's face, the small transparent container, and the deliberate movements of her hand over the food.
It also showed her returning to the separate white plate.
Leah pressed one hand against her mouth.
"Oh my God."
I looked toward the upstairs hallway.
"Keep Jasmine and her cousin inside."
She nodded.
Then glanced toward the food.
"Caleb, what if we hadn't seen her?"
I couldn't answer.
The thought was too frightening.
We had invited friends and family into our home.
Several children would be arriving.
Eleanor had been looking forward to spending the afternoon with us.
And if I hadn't happened to glance through the patio doors, we might have served the food without ever knowing someone had approached it.
I took a slow breath.
"Nobody eats anything. We call the police."
Leah nodded.
She reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
"Should we move the food?"
I looked toward the table.
"No. Let's keep everyone away and wait for instructions."
I wasn't an expert in chemical evidence.
I knew enough from construction inspections to understand that moving or cleaning a suspected contaminated area could make it harder to establish what happened.