Brenda stared at her. "I'm not someone. I'm a resident here."
She pulled her Greystone Estates resident ID from her back pocket and held it in front of Craig. Her photograph, name, and current expiration date were printed clearly on the front.
Craig took the badge, flipped it over, and held it toward the light. "This could be expired."
"It isn't. The date is printed right there."
Craig handed it back and looked toward Victoria for direction.
Victoria smoothed the front of her blazer. "Let's not make a scene. We're all just trying to keep everyone safe here."
Brenda turned to her. "Victoria, you know my husband. You sent us a welcome basket when we moved in. You stood on our porch and told me how lovely the hydrangeas were. Do you remember that?"
Victoria's lips tightened. "I send a lot of baskets. I can't be expected to remember every face."
Every face.
The word choice landed harder than she intended.
Craig straightened, apparently emboldened by Victoria's refusal to identify Fletcher. "All right. I've been patient, but I have reasonable concerns about this vehicle. I need you to step out so I can conduct a quick visual inspection."
Fletcher's hands remained on the wheel. "You have no legal authority to search my vehicle."
"On this property, I have every authority I need."
"No, you don't."
Craig stepped closer. "Step out of the car, sir."
Behind them, Dennis had a phone to his ear. He was calling the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department non-emergency line and reporting what he described as a suspicious individual refusing to cooperate with private security at a residential gate.
Brenda saw Craig moving toward Fletcher's door. She took out her phone and began recording. The red indicator appeared on the screen.
Craig noticed immediately. "Ma'am, put that phone away. This is private property. You don't have permission to film here."
Brenda did not lower the phone. "Actually, I absolutely can."
Victoria saw the camera, adjusted her sunglasses, and stepped half a pace away. She still did not say the one sentence that could end everything: He lives here.
Twelve minutes later, a Charlotte-Mecklenburg police cruiser arrived without lights or sirens. One officer stepped out, adjusted his body camera, and took in the scene: Fletcher in the Range Rover, two private guards, Brenda recording, and Victoria standing nearby.
"Good morning, sir. We got a call about a disturbance at the gate. Can I see your license and registration?"
Fletcher handed over both documents. The officer returned to his cruiser, checked the plate and license, then came back several minutes later.