The customer continued.
"She has called the police on delivery drivers before."
The officer looked at her.
"How many times?"
The customer hesitated.
"Three."
Marcus looked at the woman.
She had stopped looking confident.
The customer continued.
"She called when my brother came over last month."
The officer asked, "Why?"
The customer looked uncomfortable.
"She said he looked suspicious."
The woman shouted.
"Because he was walking around at night!"
"He was carrying my groceries."
The officer looked at the customer.
"Anything else?"
The customer nodded.
"My friends too."
"Your friends?"
"Anyone she doesn't recognize."
The officer looked toward the woman in the yellow cardigan.
"Ma'am, have you called about this residence before?"
She crossed her arms.
"I've called when I felt unsafe."
The officer asked, "Did you report a specific crime?"
"I reported suspicious people."
"Based on what?"
She looked toward Marcus.
"I know what I see."
The officer's expression became more serious.
"So far, what you've seen is a delivery driver making a delivery."
She said nothing.
The customer stepped closer.
Then she lowered her voice.
"Officer, there's something else."
The officer looked at her.
"What?"
She glanced at Marcus.
Then back at the officer.
"She keeps saying people like us don't belong here."
The woman immediately snapped.
"That's a lie."
The customer shook her head.
"You know it's not."
The officer looked between them.
"Do you have any recordings or messages?"
The customer pulled out her phone.
"I have messages."
She opened a conversation.
The officer read the screen.
Marcus couldn't see everything from where he stood.
But he saw the woman's face.
All the confidence had disappeared.
The officer scrolled.
The customer said quietly:
"She sent these after my brother visited."
The officer looked at the woman.
"Ma'am, do you want to explain these?"
The woman didn't answer.
He looked back at the phone.
Then at Marcus.
Then at the customer.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally, the officer asked:
"Ma'am, why did you call the police today?"
She took a breath.
"Because I didn't recognize him."
The officer nodded slowly.
"And that's enough for you to accuse someone of suspicious activity?"
"I was protecting the neighborhood."
"From groceries?"
She glared at him.
"You don't understand."
The officer looked at her.
"I understand perfectly."
Marcus thought the conversation was finally over.
He picked up his phone.
He was about to leave.
Then the customer suddenly said:
"Officer, wait."
Everyone looked at her.
She turned her phone around.
"I have something else."
The officer stepped closer.
The woman in the yellow cardigan went completely still.
The customer pressed play.
A recording began.
The sound was faint at first.
Then Marcus heard a familiar voice.
The voice of the woman standing ten feet away.
She was speaking to someone on the phone.
"I told you, I don't want these people coming into the neighborhood."
Marcus looked at the woman.
Her face had gone pale.
The recording continued.
"They need to understand that this isn't their kind of community."
The officer slowly looked up.
The woman reached toward the customer's phone.
"Turn that off."
The customer stepped back.
"No."
The officer raised one hand.
"Don't touch her."
The woman stopped.
The recording continued.
Then came a sentence that made the entire street go silent.
"They should know better than to come around here."
The officer stared at her.
Marcus felt a strange heaviness settle in his chest.
This was no longer about a delivery.
It wasn't about an unfamiliar car.
It wasn't about an HOA.
The officer turned toward the woman.
"Ma'am."
She looked at him.
His voice was calm.
But there was nothing casual about it anymore.
"Where did you get this idea that certain people don't belong in this neighborhood?"
She opened her mouth.
No words came out.
The officer waited.
Marcus stood quietly beside his delivery car.
The customer held her phone tightly.
And for the first time since Marcus had arrived on Willow Creek Lane, the woman who had called the police seemed to understand that she was no longer the one in control.
But the officer wasn't finished.
He looked at the customer.
"Do you have the rest of that recording?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"How long is it?"
"About eleven minutes."
The officer looked back at the woman.
"Then we're going to need to hear all of it."
The woman's face changed completely.
Because whatever was in those remaining eleven minutes was apparently something she had never expected anyone else to hear.
The officer's request changed the atmosphere on Willow Creek Lane.
A few minutes earlier, the woman in the yellow cardigan had been standing with her arms crossed, speaking as though she were the person in charge of the entire street.
Now she looked as if she wanted to disappear.
The customer held her phone in both hands.
The officer stood between the two women.
Marcus remained beside his delivery car, unsure whether he should stay or leave.
The officer looked at him.
"Sir, you can wait here for a moment."
Marcus nodded.
"Okay."
The officer turned to the customer.
"Play the recording from the beginning."
She pressed the screen.
The recording was mostly audio. There was the faint sound of traffic, a door opening, and then the woman's voice.
"I've told you before. People like that don't belong on this street."
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
The customer looked down.
The officer listened carefully.
The recording continued.
"They come in, walk around, take pictures, and nobody says anything."
Another voice could be heard in the background.
"He's just delivering something."
The woman in the yellow cardigan immediately said, "That's not what this is about."
The officer looked at her.
"Let it play."
She fell silent.
The recording continued.
The customer had apparently been speaking with her neighbor several days earlier.
The conversation had started over a delivery driver.
Then it had turned into something else.
The woman complained about "strangers" entering the community.
She complained about delivery workers.
She complained about visitors.
She complained about one family who had recently moved into the neighborhood.
She repeatedly used the phrase "people like that."
But she never explained what she meant.
The recording ended after several minutes.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, the officer asked, "When was this recorded?"
"Last week," the customer said.
"And you have other recordings?"
She nodded.
"Several."
The woman in the yellow cardigan stepped forward.
"You can't record private conversations."
The customer looked at her.
"You said those things in my driveway."
The officer raised his hand.
"Everyone needs to stay calm."
The woman turned toward him.
"Officer, this is ridiculous."
He looked at her.
"Maybe."
Then he glanced at Marcus.
"But I was called here because of a suspicious delivery driver."
He pointed toward the grocery bags.
"Right now, the only person I've seen behaving suspiciously is the person who made a false or unsupported report."
The woman stared at him.
"I didn't make a false report."
"Then explain what crime you believed was happening."
She couldn't.
The officer waited.
She finally said, "I was concerned."
"Concern isn't a crime."
"I thought he was casing houses."
"Did he enter a house?"
"No."
"Try a door?"
"No."
"Take anything?"
"No."
"Threaten anyone?"
"No."
"Then why did you call?"
She looked at Marcus.
"I didn't recognize him."
The officer nodded.
"That's not illegal."
She crossed her arms.
"Anyone can say they're a delivery driver."
Marcus held up his phone.
"The app verified the order."
The officer nodded.
"Exactly."
The woman looked frustrated.
"You don't understand what happens around here."
The officer's expression became serious.
"I understand more than you think."
He turned to the customer.
"Can you show me the other recordings?"
She hesitated.
"How many?"
"Five."
The officer looked at the woman.
"Do you know what is on them?"
The woman's face tightened.
"I have no idea."
The customer opened another file.
This one was video.
It showed the same woman standing outside her house.
She was speaking to a delivery driver.
Marcus couldn't hear every word.
But the body language was obvious.
The woman was pointing toward the street.
The driver was standing with his hands raised.
The video ended.
Another began.
A different driver.
The same woman.
The same confrontation.
Then another.
A young man carrying a food delivery bag.
Then another.
An older woman with a grocery cart.
The pattern was unmistakable.
The officer watched all four.
By the end, his expression had changed.
He looked toward the woman.
"How long have you been doing this?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've confronted several delivery workers."
"I was protecting the neighborhood."
"From what?"
She didn't answer.
The officer looked at the customer.
"Do you have any messages from her?"
The customer nodded.
She opened another folder.
There were screenshots.
Messages.
Notes.
Complaints.
Some were sent directly to the customer.
Others had apparently been posted in a neighborhood group.
Marcus read one over the customer's shoulder.
"Suspicious activity again today. Someone should look into this."
Another said:
"These people are getting too comfortable."
Another:
"Why is the HOA allowing this?"
Marcus felt uncomfortable.
He had seen enough.
The officer looked at the customer.
"Do you want to make a formal complaint?"
The woman immediately interrupted.
"She has no reason to."
The officer turned.
"Ma'am, I asked her."
The customer nodded.
"Yes."
The officer took out his notebook.
"Okay."
The woman's expression hardened.
"You can't do this."
The officer looked at her.
"Do what?"
"Make me look like a criminal."
"I'm not making you look like anything."
He wrote something down.
"I'm documenting what happened."
The customer gave him her name.
Then her address.
Then she explained that this wasn't the first time she had felt targeted.
Marcus listened quietly.
He didn't know the customer personally.
He didn't even know her name until that moment.
But he could hear how tired she sounded.
She wasn't angry.
She was exhausted.
She said the woman had complained about her visitors.
Her brother.
Her friends.
Delivery drivers.
A plumber.
A lawn-care worker.
Even a pizza delivery driver who had been sent to the wrong house and was trying to find the address.
Every time, the same thing happened.