I asked whether Patricia had visited while I was traveling.
Rachel said she had once allowed Patricia into the front hallway to retrieve a misdelivered package.
She insisted that Patricia had not gone near the living room.
I believed her, although I could hear how much she feared that I would not.
The conversation drifted toward our marriage, and I almost used the investigation as an excuse to reopen old accusations.
Then Rachel said something that stopped me.
She said I had always been willing to defend strangers in public meetings but rarely knew how to admit fear in my own home.
I told her that I was frightened now.
I was frightened of losing my business, my reputation, and the last objects that connected me to my father.
Rachel was quiet for a moment.
Then she said she was sorry that someone had used those things against me.
Two days later, she mailed a copy of the message Patricia had sent asking about the clock.
The message included a photograph of the clock hanging in my living room before the inspection.
I recognized the angle immediately.
The photograph had been taken from the front doorway, long before Patricia claimed she knew anything about the device.
It showed that she had singled out the clock well before the supposed safety visit.
Simone added the message to our evidence file and told me to thank Rachel without asking her to become part of our old arguments.
I sent a short note and meant every word.
Chapter 19: The Neighbor Across the Street
Not everyone in Briar Glen wanted to help.
Some residents believed Patricia because she had organized holiday food drives and attended every association meeting.
Others disliked her but feared becoming the next target of her complaints.
A few treated the lawsuit like entertainment and repeated rumors that became stranger with every retelling.
I stopped reading the neighborhood message board after someone claimed I had installed cameras in other people’s houses.
Then a retired school principal named Leonard Fitch knocked on Aaron’s door.
Leonard lived across the street from Patricia and had kept meticulous records of his property disputes for years.
He carried a cardboard folder and asked whether I wanted the truth or simply more reasons to be angry.
I told him I wanted the truth.
He showed me copies of association notices, meeting agendas, and letters Patricia had sent demanding access to private properties.
The pattern stretched back four years.
Patricia had repeatedly tried to expand the association’s authority beyond its written rules.
Most attempts failed when residents requested a formal vote.
