""I'm putting up a swing.""
Then her attention shifted directly to Lily.
""Young lady, your father is giving you a very poor example.""
Lily stiffened.
""My dad is a U—""
""Lily.""
She stopped immediately.
Gloria narrowed her eyes.
I hadn't told anybody what I did for work.
I am a Deputy U.S. Marshal.
My family didn't need the neighborhood knowing that. Rebecca needed time to recover, not unwanted attention. Lily deserved a summer that wasn't filled with badges, doctors, and frightened adults.
Gloria leaned toward me.
""A what?""
""A very exhausted father,"" I answered. ""This conversation is finished.""
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, Gloria gave me a cheerful little smile.
""Then you'll be meeting Community Enforcement.""
Two hours later, a black SUV pulled up in front of our house.
The man who climbed out wore navy tactical pants, a black shirt with POLICE-style patches, a duty belt, handcuffs, and a handgun.
But several things immediately looked wrong.
No department identification.
No agency markings anywhere on the SUV.
A plastic badge that didn't correspond with any jurisdiction I recognized.
And a nameplate reading MERCER.
He walked onto my property without identifying himself.
""You're Brooks?""
""Who employs you?""
His jaw tightened.
""I'm the officer asking the questions.""
Gloria's golf cart appeared behind him almost at once.
That told me everything I needed to know.
She hadn't contacted the police.
She had contacted her police.
Mercer handed me a printed notice demanding $1,850 in immediate fines for ""repeated hostile noncompliance."" At the bottom was a warning that our vehicle could be immobilized and our community access privileges suspended.
We'd lived there for nine days.
""Who approved this?"" I asked.
Gloria climbed out of the cart.
""The board.""
""Show me the covenant section that authorizes it.""
""You don't control procedure here.""