There was a hooded figure crouched right by my Harley in the driveway. From the build and gait, I knew it was Jackson. He dragged a metal key across the fuel tank, deep into the paint, right through Miranda’s airbrushed name. Then he jammed a screwdriver straight into the ignition and twisted hard. Gas began to drip onto the concrete.
I felt that cold, sharp focus click into place. I pushed it down. Anger makes you sloppy. I went back inside, poured a glass of water, and waited.
6:30 a.m.
I walked outside with my hot coffee. The air smelled like wet grass, peace, and leaked gasoline.
Right on schedule, Jackson strolled across the cul-de-sac with that same insufferable smirk. "Morning, neighbor! Something wrong with your bike?" he asked, feigning concern. "Real shame when property gets damaged. Shouldn't park your trash out here, old man."
He pulled out his phone, hands shaking slightly, and dialed 911. "Yeah, 42 Larkspur! A guy just threatened to kill me! He's got illegal cameras, I think he's going to attack!"
"Good," I said softly. "Save me the trouble."
In minutes, two police cruisers pulled up. Deandra came running out from across the street, waving a stack of printed papers.
"This man has harassed my son for weeks!" she yelled to the responding officers. "I have a log! I have witnesses!"
The lead officer looked exhausted. "Ma'am, we have high-definition video evidence of your son destroying property at 2:47 this morning. And dispatch noted he drove a vehicle here without a valid license."
Deandra's face turned pale. "That camera is illegal! Pointed at my house! Privacy violation!"
"The cameras record his property and the public easement," the officer replied flatly.
Jackson stared at Deandra with genuine fear, his smug demeanor vaporized. Deandra turned to me, looking like I had just torched her entire world.
"This isn't over!" she hissed. "I will destroy you!"
I took a sip of my coffee, looking at her calmly. "Looking forward to it."
"Watch your back," she spit, before the officers stepped between us and directed Jackson toward the cruiser.
I nodded, already planning my next move with the HOA fraud evidence. The sun was fully up now, birds chirping, the scent of coffee and gasoline mixing in the warming air. I looked at the Harley. Miranda's name was scarred, but still visible.
"Not done yet," I said quietly to myself. "Not even close."