CHAPTER FOUR: THE OTHER SIX FRONT DOORS
That evening Daniel joined Mira for a walk along Willow Creek Drive.
She wanted to verify each outdoor collection tap while a technician assessed the main line.
The first was behind a yellow duplex occupied by the Alvarez family, who shared a surname with the young officer but were unrelated.
Maribel Alvarez answered with a baby balanced on one hip.
She recognized Mira immediately.
“Is this about the water tank?”
“It has been damaged,” Mira said.
“Your normal water service is working, but I need to check your emergency outlet.”
Maribel led them to a short blue post near the back steps.
She admitted she had never used it.
“Somebody left a flyer saying the system was unsafe and would be replaced.”
She produced the flyer from a drawer.
It bore ReadySpring’s logo and a photograph of a collapsible blue water bladder placed in a neat landscaped yard.
The caption promised instant delivery within ninety minutes during any declared county water interruption.
“Ninety minutes from where?” Daniel asked.
“That is what I asked the salesman,” Maribel said.
“He told me the county had already approved it.”
Mira asked whether she had signed anything.
“Only an expression of interest.”
At the second home, retired bus driver George Pell said he had refused a demonstration because the salesman would not answer how residents collected water if roads were blocked.
The third property housed two cousins who rented from an absentee owner.
Neither had ever been told that the tap existed.
At the fourth, a schoolteacher named Sienna Park showed them an email offering a household preparedness bundle for a monthly subscription fee.
It contained delivery privileges that should have been part of any county-funded emergency plan.
At the fifth, a woman recovering from knee surgery said a salesman had warned her that using the old reserve could make her sick.
At the sixth, the homeowner asked why county inspectors had apparently condemned the tank without speaking to him.
Each conversation exposed a slightly different version of the same sales pitch.
Daniel’s anger shifted from Carol’s bat to the way six families had been given six incompatible explanations.
“They are dividing everyone into separate customers,” Nora said when he reported what they had found.
“They are selling fear one porch at a time.”
Mira resisted the conclusion.
“The service may still meet a need,” she said.
“Portable storage can be useful, especially where fixed tanks cannot be maintained.”
“Then why misrepresent this one?” Daniel asked.
“We need to ask the company that question with evidence.”
Their last stop was Carol’s house.
The front curtains were closed, and a compact hatchback sat in the driveway.
A man in a dark coat stood beside the vehicle speaking to someone through Carol’s front window.
When he saw Mira’s county jacket, he closed his car door.
“Evening,” he called.
“Are you from ReadySpring?” Daniel asked.
The man touched the brim of his cap.
“I am just checking on a friend.”
He drove away before Daniel could read his license plate.
Mira had already photographed the company’s small magnetic sign on the hatchback door.
“That was Colin Vaughn,” she said quietly.
Daniel watched the taillights disappear around the corner.
“He came to see Carol instead of the broken tank.”
“That is an interesting choice,” Mira answered.
“I intend to ask him about it.”
