The officer peered through the slats in the wooden fence. His partner moved to the side gate, which was unlocked. They slipped inside, careful, but not exactly quiet. Clarice stayed behind, her heart suddenly beating faster. Maybe she'd finally proven her point.
But on the other side of that fence, someone was already standing up, and she wasn't the one who was about to be caught off guard. Danielle Monroe heard the gate creak before she saw them. Two shadows stretched across the concrete beside the pool, growing longer with each step. She lifted her sunglasses slightly, just enough to make eye contact. Her hand rested on the arm of her lounger, fingers curled around the cold glass of iced tea.
Calm, steady, she didn't flinch. Ma'am, one of the officers called out, we're responding to a report of trespassing. Can we speak with you for a moment? Danielle slowly sat up. Her book slipped off her lap and onto the chair beside her.
She took a breath, placed her drink on the patio table, and stood. Her movements were deliberate, measured, like someone who had rehearsed this exact scene before. I live here, she said, voice firm but polite. This is my house. The taller officer, badge reading R.
Ortega, shifted his weight. We got a call from a neighbor who wasn't sure. Do you have ID, ma'am? Danielle tilted her head just slightly. Sure, I do.
She walked over to the small patio cabinet, opened it, and pulled out a leather tote. No rush, no panic. As she unzipped the inside pocket, she looked directly at Officer Ortega. Out of curiosity, she asked, do you usually ask people sunbathing by their pool to show ID, or only when someone looks like me? The other officer, Officer Perry, young, maybe 30, pale and clearly uncomfortable, glanced at his partner.
It's just standard protocol, ma'am. Nothing personal. He offered. Danielle gave a tight smile. It's always nothing personal until it is.
She pulled out a wallet, opened it, flipped it directly to her badge. It gleamed in the sun. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Deputy Director Ortega blinked, took half a step back. Danielle didn't move.
She watched them. Not angry, not smug, just tired. I bought this house 3 weeks ago, she said. Moved in last Friday. I've been too busy to meet the neighbors because I've been in Washington preparing testimony for a Senate Intelligence Committee.
But today I decided to take the afternoon off. Thought I'd enjoy my own backyard. You'll understand if I didn't expect company. Perry cleared his throat. We didn't know, ma'am.
Sorry, we just Someone called it in. Danielle turned and walked back to her lounger. She sat down and reached for her book again. Let me guess. White woman, short brown hair, binoculars on the porch.
Ortega didn't answer, but his eyes gave it away. Danielle nodded to herself. Figures. There was a pause. Neither officer knew what to say.