For several seconds Dana stared at him.
Then she turned and walked out.
The gate slammed behind her.
Conversation resumed slowly.
Renee muttered, “She’s been waiting for an excuse since we moved in.”
Darius asked what she meant.
Renee explained that Dana had complained about delivery vans, relatives parking during Christmas, a basketball hoop that complied with HOA rules, and once about smoke from a backyard smoker even though Briar Glen’s covenants specifically allowed grills and smokers.
“She likes deciding what the rules mean,” Renee said.
Darius returned to the ribs.
“Then make her put it in writing.”
For forty minutes, nothing happened.
Then one of their cousins near the driveway shouted.
“Renee!”
Darius looked toward the side yard.
Dana was back.
This time she carried a baseball bat.
Not tucked beneath her arm.
Not hanging casually at her side.
She held it with both hands.
She came through the gate quickly, face tight with anger, and marched toward the cookout tables.
Renee froze.
“Dana, what are you doing?”
“I gave you a chance.”
Darius moved between her and the nearest table.
“Put the bat down.”
Dana pointed it toward the speaker.
“Shut everything off. Now.”
“Put it down.”
“You do not tell me what to do in my community.”
Then she swung.
The bat struck the Bluetooth speaker and knocked it from the table.
Someone screamed.
Music stopped in a burst of static.
Dana swung again.
The second strike hit the edge of a folding table loaded with food. A tray of corn slid sideways, plates toppled, and a bowl of potato salad hit the lawn.
Children ran toward the house.
Marcus shouted, “Are you insane?”
Darius extended one hand toward his family.
“Everybody back.”
Dana lifted the bat again.
“This illegal party is over.”
Darius looked straight at her.
“You just turned a civil complaint into a criminal problem.”
She laughed.
“Good. I already called 911.”
That was when Darius understood that Dana had not come back to enforce anything.
She had come back to create a scene she could report.
What nobody in the King family knew yet was that Dana’s 911 call had started two minutes before she reentered Renee’s backyard with the bat.
For now, all they knew was that she stood near the ruined food table holding a wooden bat while parents moved children indoors and the adults backed away.
Darius stayed between Dana and his family.
He did not reach for the bat.
He did not threaten her.
He knew how quickly confused scenes became dangerous once officers arrived believing someone was armed.
“Set it down,” he said.
Dana held up her phone with one hand.
“They’re already coming.”
“Good. Put the bat down.”
“You threatened me.”
Darius blinked.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Everyone heard you.”
Renee pulled out her phone.
“I’ve been recording since you came through the gate.”
Dana looked toward her.
“Recording me without consent is illegal.”
Darius answered.
“Not in an open backyard during a confrontation you initiated.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed.
“You think you know everything.”
“No. I know enough to tell you not to swing a bat around children.”
A siren sounded beyond the subdivision entrance.
Dana changed almost instantly.
She lowered the bat slightly, took one step backward, and put her free hand against her chest.
Renee whispered, “Look at her.”
Darius saw it too.
Dana was preparing to look like the victim before the patrol cars even arrived.
Two cruisers entered the cul-de-sac.