Linda stood.
“I want everyone to understand something,” she said.
Her voice was soft, but the room became silent enough to hear the air-conditioning.
“I have lived here for thirty-two years. I have paid every assessment. I have attended every annual meeting except when my husband was sick. I have never had a violation.”
She looked toward the board.
“This morning, a man walked through my gate.”
Several residents exchanged looks.
“He photographed my windows. My back door. My air-conditioning unit. He looked inside my trash enclosure.”
Linda swallowed.
“When I asked why, he told me Patricia's office had instructed them to keep checking my property.”
Someone near the back whispered, “Patricia doesn't have an office anymore.”
Linda nodded.
“That's what I told him.”
Marcus watched the man's face at the end of the room.
Gray suit.
Black folder.
Expression unreadable.
Evelyn looked at him.
“Mr. Brooks?”
The man opened the folder.
“My name is Daniel Brooks. I'm counsel for the association.”
Marcus recognized him.
He had represented several residents during the investigation following Patricia's staged assault.
Daniel looked around the room.
“We have reviewed the contractor agreement, invoices, communications, and access logs.”
He paused.
“The association's previous administration did not terminate Sentinel Residential Services when the former president resigned.”
A woman in the audience whispered, “Why?”
“Because the termination provision was never properly executed.”
The room erupted.
People began talking over one another.
Daniel raised a hand.
“Please.”
The room slowly quieted.
“The contract itself is unusual. It contains an automatic renewal clause.”
Marcus frowned.
“How long?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Twelve months.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“So we're still obligated to them?”
“No.”
Daniel closed the folder.
“That is the part that concerns me.”
He pulled out a second document.
“The contract was modified eleven days before Patricia Whitmore resigned.”
Silence.
“Modified by whom?” Evelyn asked.
Daniel looked directly at the board.
“The signature belongs to Patricia Whitmore.”
The room went still.
Marcus felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“What's the modification?” he asked.
Daniel turned the document around.
“The original contract permitted patrol of common areas, entry to HOA-owned facilities, and response to calls from the board.”
He placed another page on top.
“The amendment added a clause allowing Sentinel personnel to conduct exterior compliance observations of individual properties.”
Linda's face went pale.
Daniel continued.
“Under the amendment, they could photograph property conditions and submit reports directly to the HOA.”
A man stood in the back.
“Without telling homeowners?”
Daniel nodded.
“That's correct.”
The room exploded again.
This time the anger was louder.
Marcus raised his voice.
“Who paid for it?”
Daniel answered immediately.
“The association.”
“And who requested the observations?”
Daniel hesitated.
“That depends on which period we're discussing.”
Marcus stared at him.
“Explain.”
“Some requests came through the HOA office. Others came through an email account that belonged to Patricia Whitmore.”
Linda covered her mouth.
Marcus looked down at the table.
He suddenly remembered the notices.
The mailbox.
The driveway.
The landscaping.
The security camera.
The accusations.
All those little incidents that had seemed unrelated.
They hadn't been unrelated.
They had been a system.