CHAPTER 1 — THE WOMAN IN THE GARDEN
The police cruiser arrived just after nine on a Saturday morning.
I was carrying a mug of coffee toward the porch when I saw it stop beside our mailbox. My wife, Claire Morgan, was kneeling in the flower bed, pulling weeds from beneath a row of lavender.
Across the sidewalk stood Evelyn Price, the president of our neighborhood association.
She held a bright yellow violation notice in one hand.
“Claire,” Evelyn said, “you need to leave the property.”
Claire slowly stood.
“This is my home.”
Evelyn pointed toward the cruiser.
“The board has authorized police assistance.”
I almost laughed. Then I saw the officer step out.
He was young, maybe in his thirties, with a calm expression and a tablet tucked beneath his arm.
Evelyn hurried toward him.
“Officer, thank you. This homeowner is refusing to comply with an enforcement order.”
She handed him a folder.
The officer barely glanced at it.
Instead, he looked toward Claire.
His expression changed.
He stared for several seconds.
Then he straightened.
“Commander Morgan?”
Claire removed one gardening glove.
“Officer Reed.”
Evelyn's face went pale.
The officer looked back at her.
“Ma'am, you called us to remove a woman from her own property. You didn't mention that she was a senior commander in our department.”
Evelyn's confidence vanished.
But that wasn't the real story.
The real story had started six months earlier, when we first moved into Briarwood Estates.