“And she’s president.”
“I know.”
“So the HOA pays.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Not automatically.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
She raised one hand.
“I’m not saying you pay.”
“Good.”
“I’m saying there may be insurance, individual liability, association liability, criminal restitution, or multiple sources.”
Marcus looked exhausted.
Rachel softened.
“You’re going to be made whole.”
“I want my backyard back.”
“I know.”
That night, Marcus slept badly.
Every small sound made him look toward the side yard.
At 1:14 a.m., he got out of bed.
Walked downstairs.
Opened the patio curtains.
The pool lights were off.
Police tape crossed the gate.
Under the moon, the water looked normal.
That bothered him.
Dangerous things often looked ordinary from the surface.
Marcus stood there for twenty minutes.
Then returned upstairs.
At 8:03 Sunday morning, his doorbell rang.
He checked the camera.
HOA vice president Harold Bennett.
Marcus did not open.
He spoke through the doorbell.
“What do you need, Harold?”
Harold looked embarrassed.
“Can we talk?”
“Through the camera.”
“Marcus.”
“My attorney told me not to meet board members privately.”
“I’m not here officially.”
“You’re HOA vice president.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then tell me through the door.”
Harold looked toward the street.
“Brenda was released last night.”
Marcus said nothing.
“She hasn’t been charged yet.”
“Okay.”
“She’s saying this was authorized.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“By who?”
“The board.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
“Then you should probably tell police that.”
“I did.”
Marcus paused.
That mattered.
Harold continued.
“She emailed board members yesterday morning saying she was conducting a compliance inspection at your property.”
“Did she say she was bringing a hammer and stolen glass?”
“No.”
“Then what are we discussing?”
Harold looked uncomfortable.
“Insurance.”
There it was.
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“What about it?”
“If she’s considered acting outside authority, association insurance may deny coverage.”
“That sounds like an HOA problem.”
“It affects everyone.”
“No. Brenda breaking my gate affects me.”
“If the association takes a major loss, dues could increase.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Harold.”
“Yes?”
“Do not ask me to reduce my claim so my neighbors don’t have to deal with what their board president did.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re standing at my front door on Sunday morning before nine.”
Harold sighed.
“Fair.”
Marcus waited.
Harold said:
“I should have stopped her months ago.”
That was different.
Marcus opened the door.
Not fully.
He stood in the frame.
Harold looked older than Marcus remembered.
Sixty-three.
Retired engineer.
Generally mild.
Too mild, perhaps.
“What do you mean?”
Harold stared at the porch.