The second.
And the moment Marcus told her to put the hammer down.
Karen crossed her arms.
“He edited it.”
Elaine's voice came from Marcus's phone.
“The video is being streamed live to the board.”
Karen stared at the screen.
Her face went pale.
Officer Patel replayed the footage.
Then she heard something Karen had apparently forgotten.
Just before the first strike, Karen had spoken into her phone.
“Start the towing claim now. Once the windshield is damaged, we can classify it as abandoned and unsafe.”
Officer Patel stopped the video.
“Who were you speaking to?”
Karen hesitated.
“The association's towing contractor.”
Elaine immediately answered.
“The board terminated that contractor last month.”
Silence.
Marcus looked at Karen.
“You may want to explain that.”
Karen's eyes narrowed.
But there was nothing left to explain.
The towing contractor was Whitmore Recovery Services.
Owned by Karen's younger brother.
And Marcus had spent the previous six weeks discovering exactly how much money that company had made from Briarwood Estates.
The Lamborghini wasn't the beginning of the story.
It was the moment everything finally became impossible to hide.
Six weeks earlier, Marcus had never heard of Whitmore Recovery Services.
Then Mrs. Lorraine Carter knocked on his door.
She was seventy-one and walked with a cane.
“My grandson's car was stolen,” she said.
Marcus frowned.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Did you report it?”
She handed him a folder.
“No. The HOA took it.”
Marcus opened the paperwork.
Her grandson had stayed with her after surgery.
He had parked his sedan in her driveway.
Karen's office claimed the guest permit had been submitted twelve minutes late.
The vehicle was towed.
The recovery fee was $1,800.
Lorraine couldn't afford it.
Before she could raise the money, the car disappeared.
“It was sold,” she said.
Marcus looked at the auction document.
Sale price: $9,000.
Buyer: a company operating from the same office address as Whitmore Recovery Services.
Marcus began asking questions.
He discovered twenty-three homeowners with similar stories.
Vehicles had been towed for questionable reasons.
Some owners paid inflated fees.
Others couldn't afford the charges and lost their cars.
Then Marcus noticed something strange.
The authorization signatures on the towing documents belonged to board members who insisted they had never approved the removals.
One signature belonged to Elaine Brooks.
Elaine was a retired federal judge.
She knew exactly what her signature looked like.
“I didn't sign this,” she told Marcus.
A forensic examiner confirmed it.
The signature had been copied from an older document.
Marcus began digging deeper.
He discovered a private “vehicle compliance fee” that had never been approved by the board.
Payments were routed through a company called Whitmore Community Standards.
The company was registered to Karen.
Then came the vendor contracts.
Security consulting.
Legal reviews.
Vehicle enforcement.
Every company had connections to Karen or her relatives.
Marcus began assembling a file.
Not accusations.
Evidence.
Invoices.
Bank records.
Corporate registrations.
Meeting minutes.
Towing notices.
Photographs.
He had learned the value of documentation long before he entered the automotive industry.
Karen had created a system that depended on people being too intimidated to inspect it.
Marcus intended to inspect every part.
When the emergency board meeting was scheduled, Karen believed the subject would be his Lamborghini.