Then she asked whether she could delete the footage because it concerned an HOA dispute.
The officer looked at her.
"No, ma'am. The recording is relevant to the incident."
She lowered her eyes.
It was the first time she'd confronted evidence she couldn't rewrite through a notice, a meeting agenda, or a carefully worded email.
The cameras didn't care whether she was HOA president.
They didn't care how expensive her clothes were.
And they didn't care whom she'd intended to frighten.
They recorded what happened.
Daniel insisted that the bedroom be made safe before Emily returned.
After the officers completed the necessary initial documentation, he contacted a qualified emergency glass-repair company.
The contractor arranged temporary protection for the opening and scheduled permanent repairs.
Daniel also called Emily's mother.
He explained what happened calmly.
He reassured her that Emily wasn't injured and that the house was being secured.
For several seconds, the woman was silent.
Then she asked whether their daughter had been deliberately targeted.
Daniel took a breath.
"The woman appears to have been trying to frighten Marcus. She believed this was his house."
Emily's mother sounded horrified.
"She threw a block through a bedroom window because of an HOA argument?"
"That's what we're establishing."
She paused.
"Does Emily need to come home?"
Daniel considered the question.
Then shook his head, though she couldn't see him.
"Let her finish the workshop. I'll make sure everything is safe before she returns."
After the call, he stood beside the damaged room.
The pale-blue rug was covered with glass.
A small astronomy book lay open on the desk.
The concrete block had struck the floor near the corner where Emily sometimes sat assembling model rockets.
Daniel stared.
For a moment, his professional composure disappeared again.
He imagined the sound his daughter would have heard if she'd been there.
The terror.
The possibility of injury.
And the knowledge that someone had deliberately introduced danger into a place he believed was safe.
He leaned against the doorway.
Marcus approached quietly.
"Daniel."
The older man looked toward him.
"I'm sorry."
Marcus shook his head.
"You didn't do this."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Daniel said quietly.
"She's thirteen."
Marcus nodded.
"I know."
Daniel looked toward the broken glass.
"She should be able to sit in her own bedroom without somebody using a neighborhood dispute as an excuse to hurt people."
Marcus felt his throat tighten.
He didn't know what to say.
So he stood beside his friend.
Sometimes silence was the only honest response to something that shouldn't have happened.
Deborah's husband arrived after a neighbor called him.
Richard stepped from his car and hurried toward the house.