Karen glanced through the window.
"Fine."
"You sound annoyed."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Karen sighed.
"It's just noisy."
Her sister laughed.
"You're living in suburbia. There are children everywhere."
"It's not the children."
"What is it?"
Karen didn't answer immediately.
She knew what she wanted to say.
But saying it aloud would make it sound different.
She didn't want to admit that the sight of the Johnson family made her uncomfortable.
Instead, she said, "I just don't feel like this neighborhood is what I expected."
Her sister asked, "What did you expect?"
Karen stared through the glass.
"I don't know."
That was the problem.
She didn't know.
Meanwhile, Marcus had decided to continue the barbecue.
He didn't want his children to feel frightened.
He didn't want one strange incident to destroy their afternoon.
So he turned up the music slightly.
"All right!" he shouted. "Who's hungry?"
The children cheered.
Tasha smiled, though Marcus could see the worry in her eyes.
She leaned closer.
"Do you think she'll call again?"
Marcus looked across the street.
"I don't know."
"Maybe we should end the barbecue."
"No."
Tasha looked surprised.
Marcus shook his head.
"Why should we?"
She didn't answer.
Marcus continued.
"We're not doing anything wrong."
Tasha nodded slowly.
He was right.
So they ate.
They talked.
They laughed.
For another hour, the afternoon became normal again.
Then a black SUV turned onto Willow Creek Drive.
It moved slowly.
Very slowly.
Its windows were tinted.
It passed Karen's house.
Then the Johnson house.
Then stopped.
Marcus noticed it.
The vehicle remained motionless for several seconds.
Then it reversed.
The SUV stopped directly beside the Johnson driveway.
Marcus put down his drink.
Tasha looked at him.
"Do you know that car?"
"No."
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out.
He wore a dark suit.
He closed the door.
Then walked toward the Johnson family.
Marcus stood.
The man stopped several feet away.
"Marcus Johnson?"
Marcus frowned.
"Yes."
The man reached into his jacket.
Tasha instinctively moved closer to the children.
The man pulled out a card.
"My name is Charles Bennett."
He handed Marcus the card.
Marcus read it.
Then looked up.
"What is this about?"
Charles glanced toward Karen's house.
"I think you should come inside."
Marcus's expression changed.
"Why?"
Charles lowered his voice.
"Because your neighbor isn't the only person who made a phone call today."
The barbecue went silent.
And suddenly, the black SUV made sense.
Charles Bennett waited until everyone was inside.
Marcus closed the back door.
Tasha stood near the kitchen counter.
Jordan and Mia sat at the dining table, confused by the adults' sudden seriousness.
Charles placed a folder on the table.
"I work for a community mediation organization," he explained.
Marcus looked at the folder.
"Why are you here?"
"Because someone contacted us after the police call."
Tasha frowned.
"Who?"
"That's complicated."
Marcus folded his arms.
"Then make it simple."
Charles nodded.
"Someone heard about what happened."
"Who?"
"A neighborhood association representative."
Marcus looked surprised.
"We don't have an HOA."
"No. But there is a neighborhood advisory committee."
"That's not the same thing."
"I know."
Charles opened the folder.
Inside were printed photographs.
Marcus picked one up.
It showed the Johnson house.
Another showed cars parked along the curb.
Another showed the sidewalk.
Tasha's face tightened.
"Who took these?"
"We're still trying to determine that."
Marcus looked at Charles.
"Why would anyone photograph my house?"
"That's what we're investigating."
Charles explained that someone had contacted his organization claiming the Johnson family had been hosting unauthorized gatherings and creating repeated disturbances.
Marcus shook his head.
"That's ridiculous."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because the complaint included additional allegations."
Tasha asked, "What kind?"
Charles hesitated.
"Claims about people entering and leaving the property at unusual hours."
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"We have family."
"I understand."
"And friends."
"I understand."
"People visit."
"I know."
Marcus stared at him.
"Then what exactly is unusual?"
Charles looked at Tasha.
"Nothing that I've seen."
That answer didn't make Marcus feel better.
It made him more concerned.
Charles explained that his organization sometimes became involved when neighborhood disputes escalated.
"We try to stop small misunderstandings from becoming legal conflicts."
Marcus nodded.
"But this isn't a misunderstanding."
Charles looked at him.
"No. I don't think it is."
Across the street, Karen sat in her living room.
She had noticed the black SUV.
She watched Charles enter the Johnson house.