She stopped at the gate.
"Because we're investigating several residential thefts."
Adrian's expression changed.
"Burglary?"
"Jewelry. Cash. Watches. Medication. Electronics."
"And you think they're connected?"
"I think patterns deserve attention."
She looked at the pool.
"Especially when someone keeps putting things where nobody would normally look."
Adrian didn't understand what she meant.
Not yet.
For several days, nothing happened.
Adrian almost began believing the nightmare was over.
Then Day Twenty-Eight arrived.
At 2:31 a.m., the hidden camera recorded a gloved hand throwing a black bag over the fence.
Day Twenty-Nine brought another.
Adrian didn't touch either one.
He called Detective Brooks.
She told him to leave everything exactly where it was until morning.
On Day Thirty, Adrian woke before sunrise.
He couldn't sleep.
He sat beneath the patio roof and watched the pool.
6:00.
Nothing.
7:00.
Nothing.
8:12.
Nothing.
8:38.
A gate somewhere beyond the fence closed.
8:44.
Footsteps.
Adrian stood.
The side gate handle moved.
Then the gate opened.
Meredith Vale walked into his backyard.
She wore the same ridiculous pink satin robe.
Pearl earrings.
Oversized sunglasses.
And in both hands, she carried a huge black garbage bag.
Adrian froze.
She froze too.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Adrian slowly raised his phone.
Recording.
Meredith's face changed.
"Turn that off."
"No."
"This is private HOA business."
Adrian almost laughed.
"My backyard?"
"You know what I mean."
"You've been putting garbage in my pool."
"That's not what I'm doing."
"You are holding a garbage bag."
She tightened her grip.
"I came to speak with you."
"About what?"
She glanced toward the pool.
"Your attitude."
"Thirty days of garbage for my attitude?"
"You've been difficult."
"Open the bag."
Her face went pale.
"No."
"Then leave."
She didn't move.
Adrian pointed toward the gate.
"Leave."
Meredith looked at the pool.
Then the bag.
Then him.
Something in her expression changed.
Fear.
Not anger.
Fear.
Adrian noticed.
"What's inside?"
"Nothing."
"Then open it."
She suddenly swung the bag.
Adrian stepped backward.
The bag flew into the pool.
It struck the water hard.
The plastic tore.
Food wrappers floated across the surface.
Paper.
Plastic.
Then something heavy sank toward the bottom.
Adrian stared.
A clear plastic pouch floated upward.
Inside was a gold bracelet.
Another pouch followed.
Then another.
Cash.
Jewelry boxes.
A vintage watch.
Adrian's heart stopped.
Meredith stepped backward.
Detective Brooks appeared through the gate.
She had been waiting nearby.
"Nobody move."
Meredith turned.
The detective stared into the pool.
Her face changed.
"Don't touch anything."
Adrian pointed.
"Those were in her bag."
Meredith shook her head.
"He's lying."
Adrian held up his phone.
"I recorded everything."
Brooks looked at him.
Then at Meredith.
Then back at the pool.
She moved closer without touching the water.
A white evidence label floated beside the gold bracelet.
The detective's voice became very quiet.
"That's police property."
Adrian looked at her.
"What?"
She pointed.
"That pouch should be inside an evidence room."
Meredith's face went completely white.
The detective reached for her radio.
"Send property-evidence personnel."
Then she said something that Adrian would remember for the rest of his life.
"Nobody touches that pool."
The backyard filled with investigators.
No dramatic shouting.
No chaos.
Just gloves.
Cameras.
Evidence markers.
Photographs.
Every object was documented before removal.
The first pouch contained jewelry.
The second contained cash.
The third held two rings.
Another contained prescription medication.
Then came a flash drive.
Finally, an evidence envelope.
Its label contained a case number.
Detective Brooks read it.
Her expression hardened.
Adrian noticed.
"What?"
She looked at him.
"That case is active."
"Meaning?"
"The jewelry was reported stolen nine days ago."
Adrian stared at the pool.
"Why would stolen jewelry be in my backyard?"
Nobody answered.
Then an investigator lifted another sealed pouch.
Its label carried an officer identifier.
Brooks recognized it.
"That's Grant Miller."
Adrian felt the blood leave his face.
"The officer who kept coming here?"
"Yes."
The same man who had called his first incident teenagers.
The same man who had told him not to make accusations.
The same man who had failed to file several reports.
Adrian looked toward Meredith.
She sat in a patio chair.
For the first time, she didn't look powerful.
She looked frightened.
Brooks called her supervisor.
Then Internal Affairs.
Then the property-evidence commander.
The investigation changed instantly.
What had appeared to be harassment was now potentially connected to stolen property and evidence handling.
Brooks asked Adrian for his phone.
He handed it over only after requesting a formal digital-copy procedure.
She nodded.
"Good."
Adrian looked at her.
"Good?"
"You're protecting your evidence."
He almost smiled.
"I learned from you."
The investigators spent hours cataloguing everything.
Fourteen thousand dollars in cash.
Two diamond rings.