"Frank β"
"Go inside." Frank's voice was iron. "Please."
Daniel went back inside. He didn't lock the door. He stood at the window and watched the dark shape of his neighbor on the pole, seventy-one years old, sitting in the dark with a coil of rope, waiting.
At 10:47, headlights swept the street. A white van turned onto Sycamore Lane and cruised past, slow. Daniel's heart hammered. The van went to the end of the street, turned around, and came back. It stopped beneath the pole where Frank sat hidden in the dark.
Two men got out.
9
Daniel's hand found his phone. 911, thumb hovering. Through the blinds he watched the two men walk to the base of the pole, one of them carrying a bag, the other looking up and down the street. The lookout. Just like Frank's photos.
The first man started up the pole β free-climbing, no belt, fast. He was good. He reached the crossarm in under a minute and started working on the lines, headlamp on.
And then Frank moved.
It happened so fast Daniel barely processed it. Frank swung down from above β he'd been on the far side of the pole, invisible from the street β and his boot caught the climber square in the shoulder. The man yelped, lost his grip, and slid six feet down the pole before catching himself on a bolt, cursing.
The lookout spun, reaching into his jacket. Frank's voice cracked through the night: "Do it and you're a dead man!"
Daniel was already dialing. "911, there's β"
"What's your emergency?"
"Two men, white van, Sycamore Lane β they're on the utility pole behind my house, my neighbor just confronted them, one of them might have a gun β"
"Sir, I need you to stay calm β"
Headlights flooded Daniel's window. A patrol car screamed around the corner, lights strobing. Then a second one. Detective Alvarez had been telling the truth about the unit β or Daniel's call had pulled them in fast. Either way, the street exploded into light and shouting.
"POLICE! HANDS UP! GET DOWN FROM THE POLE!"
The climber froze. The lookout ran β three steps β and went down under a tackle from an officer who came out of nowhere. The climber came down the pole slowly, hands raised.
And Frank β Frank climbed down like a man half his age, dropped the last four feet, and stood there in the swirl of red and blue lights while an officer put cuffs on the two men.
Daniel was out the door, bat forgotten, running across the yard. "Frank! Are you okay?"
Frank turned, and in the strobing light Daniel saw his neighbor grinning β actually grinning, seventy-one years old, adrenaline-drunk and alive.
"Did you see that?" Frank said. "Did you see his face?"
"You're insane," Daniel said, laughing despite himself, shaking. "You're absolutely insane."
"Worth it." Frank looked at the two men being loaded into squad cars. "Eleven days I've been waiting to do that."
Detective Alvarez walked over, shaking her head. "Mr. Delaney. We talked about not engaging."
"You talked," Frank said. "I listened. Then I did what needed doing."
"This is going to complicate the case β"
"This is going to make the case," Frank said. "You caught them in the act, Detective. On a pole. With the rigs in their bag. That's not complicated. That's a gift."
Alvarez looked at him for a long moment, then β to Daniel's astonishment β she smiled. "Get in the car, Frank. You're giving a statement. And you're lucky I'm in a good mood."
As they led Frank to the unmarked sedan, Daniel caught his neighbor's eye. Frank winked.
Daniel stood in his yard in his socks, in the chaos of lights and radios, and felt something crack open in his chest β the feud, the six years of terse nods, all of it suddenly absurd. This ridiculous, stubborn, impossible old man had sat on a pole in the dark to protect his street.
The stone in Daniel's shoe was still there. But tonight, it felt smaller.
10
The statement took three hours. Daniel gave his at the kitchen table to a young officer who typed with two fingers. Frank gave his at the station. By the time Daniel got to bed, it was 3 AM, and he slept like the dead until his alarm went off at seven.
Thursday. Nine o'clock. The settlement call.
He was online β the fiber was spliced, the router glowed green β but he took the call on his cell anyway, sitting in his office with the Hale and Stern letter open in front of him and a notepad ready.
Ms. Okafor was prompt at nine. "Mr. Mercer. Thank you for the verification protocol suggestion β I've implemented it on our end as well. Before we discuss numbers, please confirm: what is the third word of the second paragraph of my letter to you?"