Catching Katie
When we agreed to take in Katie for a few weeks before she started college, I cleaned out my work shed. We sometimes used it as a guesthouse, but, in between stays, it was my personal workspace and temple of solitude. It had electricity, running water and heat. It was small but comfy. I took out my tools, I brought my laptop into the house, I removed two half completed novels, three porn magazines and my personal papers. I left the spy cam hooked up. I’d installed the cam and a silent alarm a few months ago when there was a wave of neighborhood break-ins. I had remembered to disable the alarm but hadn’t unhooked the cam. It was concealed in the ceiling, it was easy to forget. I didn’t forget. Every woman on my …