American flags on every post. A banner about equality overhead. The irony was thick enough to choke on, but no one in that yard could see it. Not yet. Bryant looked down at the water.
It rippled gently around his ankles. He had chosen the tile himself, Mediterranean blue imported from a factory in Savannah. He remembered the day the contractor laid the last piece. He remembered standing right here, right on this spot, looking at the finished pool and thinking, "This is what 20 years of work looks like." Now he was sitting in the same spot, waiting for the police to come and remove him from it.
Natalie walked back to her group of women. She was animated now, gesturing with her wine glass, her voice carrying across the deck in sharp little bursts. "This is exactly why I created the neighborhood watch program," she said. You can't just let anyone walk in. You have to set standards.
One of the women nodded. You're so right, Natalie. Thank God you were here. I always am, Natalie said, and she believed it. The minutes passed slowly.
The music kept playing. The grill kept smoking. The flags kept swaying in the hot summer breeze. And Bryant Sullivan, the man who built every single thing these people were standing on, sat alone by the water, waiting. 38 guests stood within earshot.
Not one of them said a word in his defense. The patrol car rolled through the gate of the meridian at Crystal Lake at exactly 2:43 in the afternoon. Officer Nathan Brewer was driving. Officer Kyle Dunham sat in the passenger seat, one hand on the radio, the other resting on his knee. They parked near the clubhouse.
Glenn Sawyer met them at the sidewalk before they had even closed their doors. "Thank God you're here." Glenn was sweating. His voice had that breathless, self-important quality of a man who believed he was saving the neighborhood. "We've got a situation at the main residence.
A man broke into the pool area. He's refusing to leave." "Broke in how?" Brewer asked. He just walked in through the yard like he owned the place.
"Is he threatening anyone?" Not physically, but he won't leave. And he's been saying some pretty wild things. Dunham raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Glenn leaned in. "He says he owns this house and the whole community. Every house in it." The officers exchanged a glance. Brewer adjusted his belt.
"All right, show us where he is." Glenn led them through the party. Guests parted as the officers walked through. Some nodded, some whispered, a few held up their phones to record. The mood shifted from festive to tense.
The music kept playing, but no one was listening anymore. Natalie was waiting by the pool. She had positioned herself perfectly centered between two clusters of guests, her posture straight, her expression calm and concerned. She looked like a woman in charge of a crisis she had created. "Officers, thank you for coming."
She extended her hand. Brewer shook it. Dunham didn't. "Ma'am, can you tell us what's going on?" Natalie took a breath.