That answer stayed with him.
Lieutenant Price interviewed Marcus.
He gave facts.
Time.
Gate.
Key.
Statements.
Cody entering pool.
Shove.
No injuries.
Silent assistance request.
Video.
He did not embellish.
When finished, Price asked:
“How long has the HOA dispute existed?”
“About a year.”
“Hostile?”
“Administrative.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Marcus smiled reluctantly.
“Sometimes hostile.”
“Any prior unauthorized entry?”
“Not that I know.”
“Any reason she might believe she has legal access?”
“She has claimed inspection rights.”
“Written?”
“Yes.”
“Attorney response?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“No entry into locked private areas without resident permission except narrowly defined emergencies.”
Price wrote.
“Today’s emergency?”
“Apparently my pool.”
Price almost smiled.
Then remained professional.
“What about the key?”
Marcus pulled up the old HOA email.
Builder-era master keys discontinued.
Existing copies destroyed.
Transition completed.
Three years earlier.
Price read it.
“Interesting.”
“Yes.”
“Who sent this?”
HOA management company.
“Did Whitmore serve as president then?”
“Yes.”
Price looked toward Valerie.
“Very interesting.”
Marcus went inside while others were interviewed.
He did not want to listen.
That was harder than expected.
He was used to knowing.
Reports.
Statements.
Radio traffic.
The full picture.
Now procedure demanded he stay outside it.
His kitchen suddenly felt too quiet.
He opened the refrigerator.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing changed.
He poured water.
Then his phone rang.
His mother.
Marcus stared.
Of course.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What happened?”
He closed his eyes.
“How do you know?”
“Mrs. Chandler called.”
“She lives four streets away.”
“She has Facebook.”
Marcus looked at the ceiling.
“I'm fine.”
“She says police are at your house.”
“State patrol.”
“That does not sound better.”
“Mom.”
“What happened?”
“HOA issue.”
Silence.
Then:
“That blonde woman?”
Marcus almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“I never liked her.”
“You met her once.”
“That was enough.”
He explained briefly.
His mother became quiet after hearing Cody’s age.
“That boy did what?”
“Mom.”
“He put his hands on you?”
“He shoved me lightly.”
“Thirteen?”
“Yes.”
“She taught him that.”