He'd measured the grass himself when he mowed it 2 days ago, using the special gauge his dad had bought specifically to comply with HOA rules. And the trash cans, they were exactly where they were supposed to be, tucked against the garage wall. The screen door creaked behind him. "What's that?" Angela asked, still in her morning robe, coffee mug in hand.
Malik handed her the notice. Her face darkened as she read it, her grip tightening on the paper until it crinkled at the edges. "Your father needs to see this," she said, her voice tight. "He's in his office. They found Reginald already awake and working at his desk, surrounded by open files and his laptop screen glowing with what looked like property records."
"Started early?" Angela asked, passing him the notice. Couldn't sleep, Reginald admitted. He read the paper carefully, his expression unchanging. Notice the timestamp?
6:45 a.m. She wanted to make sure we saw it first thing. But it's all lies, Malik protested. The grass isn't too long, and the trash cans. I know. Reginald cut him off gently.
That's not the point. This is her first official move. She's establishing a paper trail. Angela crossed her arms. For what?
To build a case that we're problem residents, Reginald explained. She'll use these violations to justify escalating actions later. Malik slumped against the wall. So, what do we do? Document everything.
Reginald stood up and grabbed his phone. Come on. They followed him outside where he methodically photographed the lawn from multiple angles, including close-ups with a ruler showing the exact grass height. He took pictures of the trash can placement and Malik's bike in the garage. Time and date stamps on everything, he explained, tapping his phone.
We'll need the rumble of an engine made them all look up. A silver Mercedes crept past their house at walking speed. Linda Whitfield clearly visible behind the wheel. She lifted her hand in an exaggerated wave, her smile sharp and mocking. Angela started forward, but Reginald caught her arm.
Wait. He raised his phone and took several clear photos of Linda's car and her obvious surveillance of their home. She saw him doing it and her smile faltered for just a moment before she accelerated away. That's harassment, Angela said. Plain and simple.
Yes, it is. Reginald's voice was grim. And we're going to prove it. They went back inside, and Reginald immediately started making calls. Malik tried to focus on his homework, but he could hear his father's voice getting increasingly tense from the other room.
Finally, Reginald called them both into the living room. His face was set in hard lines. Linda filed a police report this morning, he said without preamble. She's claiming Malik was loitering suspiciously yesterday and made threatening gestures toward authorized HOA security personnel. What?
Angela exploded. Those weren't even real security guards. They were thugs she hired to intimidate our son. I know. Reginald's calm was scary now.