He frowned.
“To whom?”
“Vanessa.”
Marcus stared.
Delores continued.
“She told me the contractor had permission to work before normal hours and that I should stop making trouble.”
He shook his head.
For a moment, he looked toward the backyard.
Then asked.
“Do you still have the emails?”
Delores smiled.
“Marcus, I was a school principal for thirty-two years. I don't throw away correspondence from people who tell me to stop asking questions.”
He laughed despite himself.
She opened a folder.
Inside were printed copies of emails exchanged with the management company.
One included a photograph of a truck entering the service road.
Another showed a large pile of gray material beside the drainage trench.
Marcus examined the image.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he looked toward her.
“May I share these with the investigators?”
Delores nodded.
“That's why I'm here.”
He leaned back.
For a moment, the pressure he'd been carrying seemed slightly lighter.
He wasn't alone.
Someone else had seen the construction.
Someone else had questioned it.
And someone else had been told to remain silent.
Delores reached for his hand.
“Marcus, there's something else.”
He looked up.
She hesitated.
Then continued.
“I heard about Vanessa's comments when you bought this house.”
His expression tightened.
She smiled sadly.
“Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.”
Marcus looked away.
Delores continued.
“Some of us should have spoken up sooner.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Marcus answered.
“I've gotten used to documenting things.”
The older woman shook her head.
“That isn't the same as being supported.”
His throat tightened.
She continued.
“You've been a good neighbor. Zoe is a lovely girl. And your family belongs here as much as anybody else's.”
Marcus looked toward her.
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
Then he whispered.
“Thank you.”
Delores nodded.
“Now let's find out what those trucks brought into our neighborhood.”
Vanessa's emergency board meeting took place on a Thursday evening in the community clubhouse.
The building contained a large conference room with glass doors overlooking a landscaped courtyard. Normally, board meetings attracted only a handful of residents.
This time, nearly sixty people arrived.
Some were worried about the environmental findings.
Others wanted to know why the HOA president had entered a homeowner's private pool.
And several came because they were tired of receiving fines from an organization that seemed unwilling to answer ordinary questions.
Vanessa stood at the front wearing an expensive white designer suit.
Her hair was carefully styled.
Her makeup concealed most of the exhaustion beneath her eyes.
And she had prepared a slideshow.