"Neither do I."
The officer nodded.
"I'm going to clear the call."
He started walking back toward the cruiser.
Then his radio crackled.
He stopped.
"Unit twelve, stand by."
Reed lifted the radio.
"Go ahead."
The dispatcher spoke.
Reed listened.
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for David to notice.
"Repeat that."
The dispatcher said something again.
Reed looked toward David.
"Mr. Carter?"
"Yes?"
"Is your brother Andre Carter here?"
Andre raised an eyebrow.
"That's me."
Reed looked at him.
"Do you know a Marcus Carter?"
Andre shook his head.
"No."
Reed's radio crackled again.
He listened.
Then looked toward the street.
A black SUV had turned onto Magnolia Ridge.
It moved slowly.
No siren.
No flashing lights.
No markings.
Just a large black vehicle with heavily tinted windows.
It stopped at the end of David's driveway.
The entire barbecue went silent.
The driver's door opened.
A tall Black man stepped out wearing a dark suit.
He closed the door.
Then walked toward the officer.
"Officer Reed?"
Reed straightened.
"Yes."
The man reached into his jacket.
David's heart jumped.
But the man only pulled out an identification wallet.
Reed looked at it.
His face changed immediately.
"Sir."
The man nodded.
"Special Investigator Marcus Bell."
David stared.
Marcus Bell looked toward him.
"Mr. Carter?"
"Yes."
Bell smiled faintly.
"Sorry to interrupt your barbecue."
David looked from Bell to the police officer.
"What is going on?"
Bell's expression became serious.
"That's exactly what we're here to determine."
Across the street, Elaine watched from behind her curtains.
She had expected the police to arrive.
She had expected them to tell the Carter family to quiet down.
She had not expected another government vehicle.
And she certainly had not expected the officer to suddenly look nervous.
Marcus Bell turned toward the patrol car.
"Officer, I need to speak with you privately."
Reed nodded.
They stepped several feet away.
David couldn't hear the conversation.
But he could see their faces.
Then Bell pointed toward the house across the street.
Reed looked at Elaine's home.
His expression hardened.
A few seconds later, he returned.
"Mr. Carter."
"Yes?"
"I need to apologize."
David frowned.
"For what?"
"For the way this call was handled."
David looked at Bell.
"Why?"
Reed took a breath.
"Because this wasn't actually a disturbance call."
The backyard became completely silent.
David's voice was low.
"What was it?"
Reed looked toward Elaine's house.
"A suspicious-person complaint."
David shook his head.
"Who was suspicious?"
Reed didn't answer immediately.
Then he said,
"You."
David felt something cold settle in his chest.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something deeper.
Disappointment.
He had lived here eight years.
He had paid taxes.
Maintained his property.
Helped neighbors.
Raised his children.
And somehow, on an ordinary Saturday afternoon, a family barbecue had become suspicious.
Marcus Bell stepped closer.
"Mr. Carter, this is not over."
David looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Bell's voice was quiet.
"I mean someone made a report that may have contained information that wasn't true."
Renee crossed her arms.
"Then why would they do that?"
Bell looked toward the opposite house.
"That's what we're going to find out."
By evening, the barbecue was over.
The relatives had gone home.
The children were asleep.
The dishes had been washed.
But David couldn't sleep.
He sat alone on the back steps.
The grill had cooled.
A few pieces of charcoal glowed faintly in the darkness.
Renee came outside carrying two cups of tea.
She sat beside him.
"You okay?"
David stared at the yard.
"No."
Renee handed him the cup.
"I know."
For several moments, they said nothing.
Finally David spoke.
"I keep thinking about what the officer said."
Renee looked at him.
"What part?"
"Suspicious."
She sighed.
"I know."
David shook his head.
"I've spent eight years in this neighborhood."
"I know."
"I coached the neighborhood kids."
"I know."
"I helped Mr. Lawson fix his fence."
"I know."
"I've carried groceries for Mrs. Greene."
"I know."
"And today, because we had family over, somebody looked at my house and decided I was suspicious."
Renee placed her hand over his.
"You know who you are."
David smiled sadly.
"That's not the point."
"No."
"It's not."
Across the street, Elaine sat in her living room.
She had expected relief.
Instead, she felt anxious.
The black SUV was gone.
The police cruiser was gone.
But something about the interaction had frightened her.
She searched the internet for Marcus Bell.
The results appeared quickly.
Federal investigator.
Public corruption cases.
Civil-rights investigations.
Internal oversight.
Elaine stared at the screen.
Why would someone like that care about a neighborhood barbecue?
She didn't know.
And she didn't know that Marcus Bell had been investigating emergency-call patterns in several suburban communities.
The case was not officially about Magnolia Ridge.
Not yet.
But several complaints had followed a similar pattern.
Vague claims.
"Suspicious people."
"Unknown individuals."
"Large gathering."
"Concern for safety."
And in several cases, the people described had been Black homeowners.
Bell had begun noticing the pattern months earlier.
When he saw the Carter call come across his desk, he became interested.
Not because a barbecue was important.
Because the wording of the complaint was familiar.
Too familiar.
The following Monday, Bell returned to Magnolia Ridge.
He met David at a small coffee shop.
"I owe you an explanation," Bell said.
David sat across from him.
"Please give me one."
Bell opened a folder.
"There have been several emergency calls in this county that appear to have been made without a legitimate emergency."
David frowned.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Your call may be connected."
David leaned forward.
Bell continued.
"We're not accusing anyone yet."
"Yet?"
"We need evidence."
David nodded slowly.
"What kind of evidence?"
"Call recordings. Dispatch logs. Body-camera footage. Previous complaints. Security footage."
David thought for a moment.
"You think someone has been doing this before?"
Bell nodded.