Instead of leaving, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed 911.
Right there on my driveway, she began to put on the performance of a lifetime.
"Help!"
"Please!" she cried into the phone, her voice shaking with fake terror.
"I'm a neighborhood official, and a homeowner is threatening me!"
"He's being violent!"
"I fear for my life!"
"Please send officers immediately!"
She hung up and gave me a wicked, triumphant smirk.
"Let's see how tough you are when you're in handcuffs, Mark."
I stood in stunned silence.
Did she really just fake a 911 call?
Gary looked a bit nervous, shifting his weight from side to side, but he stayed put.
I didn't run or panic.
I simply pulled out my phone and texted Sarah, who was inside getting ready for her night shift.
*'Brenda just called the cops on me.'*
*'Faked an assault.'*
*'Come out.'*
Within five minutes, the wail of sirens pierced the quiet evening.
Two local police cruisers came tearing down the street, their lights flashing, illuminating the manicured lawns in stark red and blue.
They stopped aggressively at an angle, blocking the street.
Three officers jumped out, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
A call about a violent man threatening a woman always warranted a heavy response.
Brenda immediately turned on the waterworks, running toward the officers.
"Officers!"
"Thank God!"
"He's completely unhinged!"
"He threatened to hit me!"
"I'm just trying to do my job!"
The lead officer, a stern-looking sergeant, approached me.
"Sir, keep your hands where I can see them."
"Step away from the woman."
I complied, raising my hands calmly.
"Officer, I haven't done anything."
"There are cameras on the porch that recorded the whole thing."
But before the sergeant could respond, the heavy wooden front door of my house swung open.
The officers' attention snapped to the doorway.
Sarah stepped out.
But she wasn't in her usual jeans and sweater.
She was fully dressed for her shift in her Class-A State Police Captain's uniform.
The dark blue fabric was perfectly pressed.
The gold oak leaves on her collar gleamed under the porch lights.
Her duty belt was secured, and the prominent, silver State Police badge was pinned to her chest.
She looked imposing, authoritative, and utterly in command.
The reaction from the local officers was instantaneous.
They froze.
Their hands dropped from their belts.
The sergeant's eyes went wide as he recognized the uniform, the rank, and then the woman herself.
Sarah's task force regularly coordinated with the local precincts; these guys knew exactly who she was.
The aggressive posture vanished, replaced by an immediate, rigid professionalism.
"Captain," the sergeant said, automatically standing a little straighter.