“Discoloration.”
“What color?”
Pause.
“Yellowish.”
Marcus went still.
Danielle noticed.
Marcus looked toward the pool.
“Who told you that?”
“I already answered.”
“No, you didn't.”
“Marcus, your tendency to challenge every notice is becoming exhausting.”
His jaw tightened.
“You just described something nobody outside my family should know.”
Brenda laughed softly.
“Your yard is not invisible.”
“It is behind a six-foot fence.”
“Neighbors notice things.”
“Which neighbor?”
“I am not playing this game.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Neither am I.”
Brenda became sharper.
“If you correct the sanitation concern, the notice will close.”
“It was corrected before you sent it.”
“That remains to be verified.”
“By who?”
“The association may require inspection.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then Brenda said, “Excuse me?”
“You do not have permission to enter my backyard.”
“Our covenants permit reasonable inspection.”
“Send me the section.”
“You have received the governing documents.”
“Then send me the section.”
Brenda disconnected.
Danielle stared.
Marcus lowered the phone.
“That went well.”
He looked at her.
She smiled. “You didn't yell.”
“I am evolving.”
But the yellow detail stayed with him.
He searched the backyard cameras.
Saturday footage.
Danielle and the children entered the pool at 3:18.
Nothing unusual.
At 3:51, the side camera lost signal for eleven minutes.
Marcus frowned.
The main back camera remained active but did not show the far corner near the equipment enclosure.
At 4:07, Danielle noticed the strange smell.
The timing bothered him.
He checked the side camera's logs.
Power interruption.
Not network failure.
Someone had physically disconnected something or the unit had briefly lost electricity.
The camera shared power with an exterior outlet inside a weatherproof box.
Marcus went outside.
The box appeared closed.
He opened it.
The plug was slightly loose.
Not proof of anything.
He pushed it firmly back into place.
On Thursday, he installed a second camera.
Brenda sent another email Friday.
Exterior surveillance devices must not infringe upon neighboring privacy.
Marcus laughed when he read it.
Danielle heard from the living room.
“What now?”
“She doesn't like the camera.”
“The camera on our fence?”
“Yes.”
“That looks at our gate?”
“Yes.”
Danielle closed her book.
“I'm starting to dislike this woman.”
“You are late.”
Marcus replied to the HOA.
He cited the actual covenant sections.
No prohibition applied.
The camera stayed.
For two weeks, nothing happened.
The children returned to the pool.
No itching.
Then on the third Friday, Caleb came inside rubbing his shoulders.
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
“How long were you swimming?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Nia?”
“Still outside.”
Marcus moved.
Danielle followed.
Nia was sitting on a lounge chair.
“Dad, something smells weird.”
Marcus walked to the water.
The odor was faint.
Chemical.
Not normal pool chlorine.