I own it. I paid for it, and I parked my truck in my own driveway. He lowered the badge. "Do you have anything else you'd like to say to me?" Diane opened her mouth.
Nothing came out. Her lips moved once, twice, like a fish pulled from water. Her eyes darted to the officers, to the neighbors closed doors, to the hose still lying on Blake's driveway, to the puddle of water beneath the truck, where her evidence of superiority had pulled into nothing. She had nothing to say. For the first time in 22 years on Willowbrook Lane, Diane Hartley had absolutely nothing to say.
The only sound was Blake's wet shirt dripping onto the asphalt and the low crackle of a police radio inside one of the cruisers. Blake put the badge back in its case. He closed the lid. He didn't clip it to his belt. He didn't keep it out for show.
He'd made his point. Then he turned to Sergeant Anderson. "Sergeant." "Sir." This woman called 911 and reported that I was armed, that I was dealing drugs, and that I threatened her.
She stated that I was trespassing on a property I legally own. Blake's voice was even controlled. The voice of a man who had given orders for decades. She also used a garden hose to deliberately spray my person and my property, damaging personal belongings, including irreplaceable family photographs. He paused, let the words settle.
"That's a false police report and criminal mischief. You know the procedure." Anderson nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned to Diane.
Ma'am, I need you to stay where you are. I need to ask you some questions regarding the 911 call you placed at He checked his shoulder radio log. 4:39 p.m. today. Diane's face was a ruin. The confidence, the chin-up authority, the 22-year reign of Willowbrook Lane.
All of it had drained out of her in the 90 seconds since Anderson had said Chief Powell. She looked smaller somehow. Her tennis outfit looked ridiculous. Her platinum hair looked stiff and absurd in the fading afternoon light. I didn't.
I was just trying to protect the neighborhood, ma'am. Anderson's voice was professional, but carried no warmth. You told the 911 dispatcher that the individual was possibly armed. Is that correct? I said I wasn't sure.
You said, and I quote from the recorded call, I think he's hiding something. Drugs or a weapon. Did you have any evidence of a weapon? No, but he was reaching into he was carrying boxes of books into his house. Ma'am, Diane's mouth opened and closed.