The first thing Devon Carter noticed was the sound.
A faint, irregular crackling came from the far side of his backyard, followed by the metallic rattle of someone forcing open the old wooden garden gate. It was 4:26 on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in North Carolina, and the thirty-five-year-old Black homeowner had just stepped outside after taking a shower. He was shirtless, wearing only a large bright-yellow bath towel wrapped securely around his waist, when his security camera sent an alert to his smartphone.
Devon stopped beside the swimming pool.
The screen showed a woman approaching through the gate, carrying something long and black in her right hand. She had a short silver-blonde bob, an attractive mature face, and a slim, fit figure. Her navy-blue one-piece swimsuit was decorated with elegant white floral patterns, a peculiar outfit for someone who appeared to be sneaking into another person's backyard with a damaged electrical cable.
Devon recognized her immediately.
Linda Prescott.
Fifty-six years old.
President of the Brookstone Meadows Homeowners Association.
And the same woman who had spent seven months insisting that his private swimming pool belonged to the neighborhood.
At first, Devon thought she was carrying an ordinary piece of discarded equipment. Then a small blue-white flash appeared near the damaged end of the cable. He saw another flash seconds later, accompanied by a sharp crackling sound that made his stomach tighten.
He looked toward the water.
The pool was enormous and beautifully maintained, with crystal-clear turquoise water, decorative blue mosaic tiles, and a wide concrete deck surrounded by thick green grass. Tall trees provided shade along the wooden privacy fence, and the late-afternoon sunlight reflected against the windows of his two-story house.
It was the place Devon loved most.
And Linda was walking toward it with something that had absolutely no business being near a swimming pool.
"Linda!" he shouted. "Stop right there!"
She turned sharply.
For a moment, she looked startled to find him outside. Then her expression hardened into the familiar arrogance he'd endured for months.
"Well, look who finally decided to come out!"
Devon remained several yards away.
"What are you carrying?"
She glanced at the cable.
Then smiled.
"Something you should have thought about before refusing to cooperate."
He felt his heartbeat accelerate.
"Put it down."
Linda laughed.
"You don't give me orders, Mr. Carter."
She dragged the cable another step toward the concrete pool deck. Its damaged tip remained above the ground, producing another brief flash. Devon immediately moved farther from the water and raised his phone.
He wasn't going to approach an electrical hazard or physically wrestle the object away from her.