"Any uniforms?"
"Tactical gear."
Wells wrote something down.
Nick stared at him.
"They attacked my son."
"I understand."
"No."
Nick's voice hardened.
"You don't."
Wells looked up.
Nick held out the brick.
"They threw this through my window."
Wells hesitated.
"We'll investigate."
"Will you?"
"Mr. Grace—"
"Will you actually investigate?"
The detective sighed.
"HOAs are private organizations. Their enforcement contractors don't have police authority."
"Then why were they dressed like police?"
"I don't know."
"They came to my house."
"I understand."
"They threw a brick at a baby."
Wells closed his notebook.
"If we can identify the attackers, we'll pursue it."
Nick stared at him.
"And if we can't?"
The detective didn't answer.
That silence told Nick more than words could.
Hours later, a nurse finally appeared.
"Mr. and Mrs. Grace?"
They both stood.
"Your son is alive."
Allison covered her mouth.
"But he's in critical condition."