Fence.
House.
Perhaps, he thought, the HOA had expanded dramatically while he slept.
Victoria continued.
“Yes, I am the association president.”
Pause.
“No, I don’t know whether he has a weapon.”
Aaron’s expression changed.
He stood.
That sentence transformed annoyance into something else.
He was a Black man sitting shirtless in his own fenced backyard.
Victoria had just introduced the possibility of a weapon into a police call despite seeing absolutely nothing in his hands except, perhaps, a strawberry ten minutes earlier.
Aaron saved the live recording.
Then he activated manual recording on his phone.
Victoria said:
“I’m going in now.”
Aaron stared at the screen.
“No, you are not.”
She could not hear him.
Victoria lowered the phone.
She looked left.
Then right.
She reached toward the gate latch.
Aaron’s rear gate was not locked with a key when he was home. It used a simple interior latch positioned high enough that reaching over the fence was awkward but possible.
Victoria had apparently studied this.
Her fingers appeared over the top board.
She found the latch.
Lifted it.
The gate opened.
Aaron walked slowly toward the pool chair and sat back down.
Not because he was relaxed.
Because he wanted the camera to see everything clearly.
Victoria entered.
She closed the gate behind her.
Then she turned and saw Aaron watching.
Neither spoke for two seconds.
Aaron lifted his phone.
“Victoria.”
She stopped.
“Aaron.”
“You just let yourself into my backyard.”
Her chin rose.
“I called the police.”
“I heard.”
That surprised her.
Only slightly.
She looked toward the house.
Aaron followed her eyes.
Security camera under the rear eave.
He watched realization arrive.
“You were listening?”
“You were standing next to my fence.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to record me.”
Aaron almost smiled.
“You were outside my property speaking loudly enough for my security system to capture you.”
Victoria removed her sunglasses.
“You need to leave.”
Aaron stared.
Then looked behind himself.
At his own house.
Then at her.
“Leave where?”
“This area.”
He waited.
Victoria pointed toward the lawn.
“This portion of the property is under HOA recreational control.”
Aaron looked down at the grass beneath his bare feet.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Police are on their way.”
“Good.”
That was not the response she expected.
Victoria stepped closer.
“You think this is funny?”
“I think it’s strange.”
“You have repeatedly ignored board directives.”
Aaron leaned back in the chair.
“I have repeatedly responded to board letters with the recorded plat.”
“You keep hiding behind technicalities.”
“Property ownership is a technicality?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“I genuinely do not.”
Victoria pointed toward the far hedge.
“The original development plan designated this corridor as pedestrian recreation access.”
Aaron nodded.
“The preliminary plan.”
“Yes.”
“Which was replaced before construction.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Aaron.”
He raised one hand.
“County plat book 214, page 77.”
Victoria stared.
“Recorded June 18, 2009.”