“What?” I set down my cup with a bit of clatter. “Can I see it?”

Mr. Henderson hesitated, studying me.

“It’s just,” I paused, forcing an embarrassed smile, “my aunts think I’m crazy. It would make me feel better to see something concrete.”

“I know what that’s like.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Come with me.”

I followed Mr. Henderson into his study. It was a cozy space. There was a fireplace across from his desk, more bookshelves, and a multitude of little lamps that gave the place a soft glow. My neighbor moved to sit in the leather chair in front of the computer on his desk and jiggled the mouse. He then gestured for me to come in behind him. “I tried to show the officers, but they dismissed it as a sheet from the clothesline next door. So foolish.”

I couldn’t help but agree. Very foolish indeed.

He clicked a few files, and a number of small screens came to life. “I currently only have cameras on the front of the house and the side by the driveway. I’ve been focusing on the doors for obvious reasons. But I intend to install them in the back, I just haven’t got around to it.”

I pointed at the screen. “This is the side of your house?”

“That’s right.”

I studied the live feed. He had the camera positioned on the back edge of the bungalow, facing toward the street, covering his driveway and the side door. None of that mattered though. I was more interested in the tiny sliver of frame that captured the iron fence of our yard where Mr. Henderson had caught sight of his ghost.

“I’ve tagged the exact moment where the ghost comes into view. Just let me queue it up.” He opened another window, then clicked with his mouse to start the recording just before the little mark indicated on the bar at the bottom of the screen.

“What time of night is this exactly?”

He squinted. “It looks like eighteen minutes past nine.”

So approximately, fifteen, twenty minutes after the murder.

“Now, keep your eyes peeled. It only lasts a second.” He hit play. “Ready. Wait for it. There!”

The flash of white happened so fast I didn’t catch anything. “Can you pause it on the exact frame?”

“I can indeed.” Mr. Henderson fiddled some more. “I’ve actually gotten quite good at this,” he said, smiling up at me. “Here. I’ll put it in slow motion.”

He restarted the video. Nothing happened at first, then a frame with a little white flashed on the screen, but it was too blurry to be of use. Another frame clicked into view. Then another. “Pause it!”

I must have startled him because he hit the mouse really hard, and the video stopped precisely where I wanted it to.

I leaned toward the screen.

Chills raced up and down my arms.

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure, but I was willing to bet that was not the corner of a bedsheet I was looking at.