“Nobody is trapped, Officer,” I said calmly. “She’s standing on the garage door sensor.”
Davis sighed, clicking his radio off. “Okay, let’s bring the volume down. Ma’am, step away from the garage door. Sir, stay right where you are. What is going on here?”
Brenda eagerly closed the distance to the officer. “I bought that vehicle this morning,” she said, jabbing a finger toward the gleaming black Audi. “My husband purchased it as an anniversary gift. I came over to retrieve it, and this man practically ran me over trying to hide it in his garage.”
Officer Davis pulled a small notepad from his pocket. “And your husband is who, ma’am?”
“Richard Gable. He’s the HOA President,” Brenda said, standing taller, wearing the title like a badge of absolute authority. She turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “Tell him to give you the paper he stole from my hands.”
I didn’t argue. I walked forward slowly and handed Officer Davis the crumpled, printed sheet.
“She shoved this into my chest,” I explained. “It’s a printed template. You’ll notice the VIN matches the Audi, but the seller’s signature is her husband’s.”
Davis took the paper, furrowing his brow as he read it. He looked back at Brenda. “Ma’am, this document lists your husband as the seller, not the buyer. And it lists the buyer as blank.”
Brenda blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Richard is a businessman. He probably structured the paperwork to avoid dealer fees. The point is, he secured the vehicle for me this morning.”
I shook my head. “Officer, my name is Marcus Vance. I bought that Audi six months ago from a dealership in Scottsdale. I have the title, the registration, and the original plates locked inside my house right now. The only reason it doesn't have plates on it at this exact second is because I picked it up from a detailing shop downtown where it spent the last two weeks getting a custom wrap.”
“He’s lying!” Brenda yelled, dropping the fragile victim act entirely. She stepped toward me, her face red. “Richard told me he locked the deal in at ten o'clock this morning!”
“Okay, stop,” Davis commanded, holding up a hand. He turned to me. “Mr. Vance, can you go get your paperwork?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
I turned my back on Brenda and walked through the garage into my kitchen. My hands were shaking slightly now, but my mind was racing. How did Richard get my VIN? The HOA required residents to register their vehicles for neighborhood parking passes. Richard had full access to the neighborhood database. He had pulled my VIN from the community registry to fake a bill of sale. But why?
I grabbed my heavy leather document folder from the kitchen counter, slipped my driver's license out of my wallet, and headed back outside.
By the time I reached the driveway, Brenda had escalated. She was speaking loudly, making sure Mr. Miller and Mrs. Higgins could hear every word.
“He probably swapped the plates,” Brenda was telling Officer Davis. “You need to run a full background check on him. We didn't want him in this neighborhood to begin with.”