“About what?”
“The neighborhood.”
She pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse.
Marcus opened it.
The message was short.
You don't belong here either.
He looked at her.
“When did you get this?”
“Two days after I moved in.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I thought it would stop.”
Tasha looked at Marcus.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“I didn't know anyone.”
Marcus handed the note back.
“Did you think our party was connected to this?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why tell us?”
“Because I realized yesterday that fear was influencing how I saw everything.”
Marcus sat down.
For the first time, he looked at Evelyn not as the woman who called the police, but as someone who had been frightened.
“What else happened?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“A car parked outside my house several nights.”
“Did you get the plate?”
“Yes.”
She showed him a photograph.
Marcus stared at it.
He didn't recognize the vehicle.
Tasha did.
“That car belongs to Mr. Collins.”
“Who?”
“Two houses down.”
Evelyn looked confused.
“He's the man who runs the neighborhood association.”
Marcus frowned.
“Why would he watch you?”
“I don't know.”
There was a knock at the door.
Renee.
She entered and saw Evelyn.
“Oh.”
Marcus said, “She has something to tell us.”
Renee listened.
When Evelyn finished, Renee took the note.
She studied it.
“This doesn't sound like a random teenager.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wording.”
She looked at Marcus.
“And the timing.”
Tasha frowned.
“What are you thinking?”
Renee didn't answer immediately.
“I'm thinking we shouldn't assume anything.”
Marcus nodded.
“Agreed.”
Evelyn looked relieved.
“Thank you.”
Renee handed back the note.
“But I do think you should report it.”
“I will.”
“And document every incident.”
Evelyn nodded.
She stood.
“I came here to apologize.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You did.”
“And?”
“I accept your apology.”
She exhaled.
“But that doesn't erase what happened.”
“I know.”
“If we're going to live across the street from each other, we should at least be able to talk.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“I'd like that.”
Tasha stood.
“Then next time there's a party, come over.”
Evelyn blinked.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“You'd invite me?”
Tasha smiled.
“If you're willing to bring dessert.”
Evelyn laughed nervously.
“I can do that.”
She left.
Marcus watched her walk across the street.
Renee stood beside him.
“You believe her?”
Marcus thought.
“I believe she was wrong.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“I don't know yet.”
Renee nodded.
“Good.”
Because the truth was, the story wasn't over.
Not even close.
Three days later, Marcus received a letter from the neighborhood association.
The letter stated that the Bennett residence had violated a community noise policy.
Marcus read it twice.
Then he looked at Tasha.
“What?”
She took the letter.
“That's ridiculous.”
“The party was on Saturday.”
“Today is Tuesday.”
Marcus nodded.
The letter claimed multiple residents had complained.
But there was only one official complaint on record.
Evelyn's.
Marcus called the association.
A woman answered.
“Maple Ridge Community Association.”
“This is Marcus Bennett.”
“Yes.”
“I received a notice regarding Saturday's gathering.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'd like to know who filed the complaint.”
“We don't disclose resident information.”
Marcus frowned.
“I already know who called 911.”
There was a pause.
“This is a separate matter.”
“Then why does the letter mention a police response?”
Another pause.
“I'd need to speak with the association president.”
“Who's that?”
“Richard Collins.”
Marcus looked at Renee.
Mr. Collins.
The man whose car had been outside Evelyn's house.
Marcus hung up.
Renee immediately said, “Don't call him angry.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking about it.”
She smiled.
“Exactly.”
That evening, Marcus received another message.
It wasn't from the association.
It was from an unknown number.
You should keep your parties smaller.
Marcus stared at the screen.
Tasha saw his face.
“What is it?”
He showed her.
Her expression hardened.
“That's enough.”
Marcus called Renee.
Within twenty minutes, she was at their house.
She photographed the message.
“Don't respond.”
“I won't.”
“Save everything.”
“I am.”
Renee looked at the message again.
“Whoever sent this knows about the party.”
Marcus said, “That's not hard.”
“True.”
“But?”
“But the wording is interesting.”
“What?”
“You should keep your parties smaller.”
She looked at him.
“That's not a threat.”
“No.”
“It's a warning.”
Marcus frowned.
“What difference does that make?”
“A threat says, ‘I'm going to hurt you.’ A warning says, ‘Something will happen if you don't change your behavior.’”
Marcus looked toward the window.
“So what?”
“So someone believes they have the authority to tell you how to use your own property.”
Tasha crossed her arms.
“Then they picked the wrong family.”
Renee smiled.
“That's what I was thinking.”
The next morning, Marcus requested a copy of the association's complaint records.
He expected resistance.
Instead, the association's office manager sent him a PDF.
There were seven complaints.
All filed within forty-eight hours of the graduation party.
Marcus opened them.
Complaint one:
“Excessive noise.”
Complaint two:
“Too many vehicles.”
Complaint three:
“Possible parking violation.”
Complaint four:
“Large gathering causing neighborhood concern.”
Complaint five:
“Unknown visitors.”
Complaint six:
“Suspicious activity.”
Complaint seven:
“Potential disturbance.”
Marcus looked at the names.
Six were anonymous.