Emma was recommended by a friend.
Sweet.
Responsible.
Perfect babysitter.
We left our two-year-old daughter Lily with her while we attended a dinner party.
Everything seemed fine.
Until we returned home.
Emma was standing by the door with her coat already on.
Her face looked pale.
“You’re back early,” she said.
“We came as soon as dinner ended,” I replied.
My husband pulled out his wallet to pay her.
But she shook her head.
“No.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
We exchanged confused looks.
“Why not?” I asked.
Emma hesitated.
Then she leaned closer and whispered something that made my stomach drop.
“You need cameras in this house.”