"Owen, thank goodness." Vivien hurried toward him as though greeting a friend at a restaurant. "I told you he was still here. He's trying to get into Margaret's house, and he won't listen to me."
The lieutenant barely glanced at Malik before turning his attention back to Vivien. "Is anyone inside? Has he threatened you?"
"He said I had no right to tell him what to do. He's got keys, Owen. I know Margaret wouldn't have given him those keys."
Malik watched the exchange and felt his expectations change. The officer had not asked who lived at the address, had not requested the documents, and had not approached the man actually standing beside the house. He had greeted the caller by her first name and appeared to accept her view as the starting point. Behind him, the younger officer looked at the porch and then at the sedan, her expression growing more questioning with each sentence.
"Sir," the lieutenant finally said, turning toward Malik. "I'm Lieutenant Owen Halbrook. Step away from that residence and come down toward the street."
"Lieutenant, I'm Malik Reigns. This is my home," Malik replied. "I have the deed, closing papers, insurance documents, and keys. I can show you all of them."
"I didn't ask for a story. I told you to move away from the house."
"You can verify the ownership in a moment. The records were updated after Thursday's closing."
Halbrook's expression hardened, as though the word verify had become an insult. Vivien stood beside him with her arms crossed, looking at Malik in anticipation. The younger officer, whose nameplate read MORENO, stepped sideways to get a clear view of the house number. She raised her shoulder radio and spoke in a professional, even tone.
"Dispatch, Officer Moreno at 847 Elmwood Drive. Please run the current property ownership record and confirm the most recent transfer."
"Tessa, that isn't necessary," Halbrook said sharply. "We have a burglary complaint."
"The reporting party says she's a neighbor, Lieutenant," Moreno answered. "The gentleman says he owns the property. It should be easy to check."
Malik looked at the younger officer and gave the smallest nod of thanks. He did not know her, and he did not want to put her in a confrontation with a superior. All he wanted was the ordinary process that would have ended the dispute minutes earlier if anyone had followed it. Halbrook, however, turned toward him with a new look of irritation, as if Moreno's willingness to check the facts made Malik personally responsible for undermining his authority.
"You're going to move now," Halbrook said, taking two deliberate steps closer. "Or I'll move you."
Malik kept his hands at chest level where both officers could see them. "My briefcase is in the passenger seat. The original closing package is inside it, and I can give it to you without going near the door. You can also ask dispatch who the current owner is."
"I don't take orders from people I'm investigating."
"I'm not ordering you to do anything," Malik said. "I'm offering evidence."
Vivien pushed forward from behind the lieutenant. "Why are we even discussing it? Margaret Whitmore owned this house for years, and I know exactly who she would sell to. Look at him, Owen. Does he look like he belongs on this street?"