My Neighbor Cut Every Internet and Phone Line Outside My House Then Asked Why I Hadn't Missed The Most Important Call of My Life

Daniel didn't put his father's name on the sign. He put his own. Because the house wasn't his father's anymore. It was what Daniel had made of it. And that, he thought, was the real inheritance.

17

The trouble started on a Tuesday in December — because of course it did; Tuesdays were cursed now, as far as Daniel was concerned.

He was working late, the house dark except for his office, when his phone buzzed. Unknown number. He almost didn't answer — the events of the past year had made him cautious about unknown numbers in a way that was probably permanent.

"Daniel Mercer?" A man's voice. Unfamiliar. "You don't know me. My name is Paul Reyes. I was — I worked with Marcus Webb."

Daniel went very still. Marcus Webb. The ringleader. Fourteen years.

"I'm out," Reyes said quickly. "I mean — I wasn't inside. I was the money guy. I never touched a pole. They didn't get me because — look, that's not why I'm calling. I'm calling because Webb's got people still out here, and they're blaming you and the old man for the whole thing falling apart. They think if you hadn't —"

"Slow down," Daniel said. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying watch your back. And watch Delaney's. There's a guy named Torres. He was Webb's enforcer. He got picked up in the sweep but they cut him loose — insufficient evidence. He's been asking about Sycamore Lane."

The line went dead.

Daniel sat in the dark office, phone in his hand, heart hammering. Then he did what he'd learned to do: he verified. He called Detective Alvarez — she'd made captain since the trial, but she still answered her own phone.

"Paul Reyes," Alvarez said, after Daniel told her. "Yeah, we know him. Small fish, money mule coordinator. We couldn't tie him to the operation directly." A pause. "And Torres — Dominic Torres. We had him for forty-eight hours and had to let him go. If Reyes says Torres is asking about Sycamore Lane, I believe it."

"What do I do?"

"Exactly what you did — you tell me. I'll put a car on the street for a few nights. And Daniel — tell Frank. But tell him not to climb any poles this time."

Daniel walked next door. Frank was in the garage, working on something — the scanner setup, probably, though Daniel had stopped asking.

"We might have a problem," Daniel said, and told him about the call.

Frank listened without interrupting. When Daniel finished, Frank set down his tools and said, "Torres. Big guy? Scar through his eyebrow?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because there's been a big guy with a scar through his eyebrow parked at the end of the street twice this week. I thought he was a delivery driver." Frank wiped his hands on a rag. "Guess not."

Daniel felt the old cold seeping back in. "Alvarez is putting a car on the street."

"Good." Frank picked up a wrench, hefted it thoughtfully. "And until then?"

"Until then we stay inside, lock the doors, and let the police handle it."

Frank looked at the wrench. Then he set it down. "Fine. But I'm sleeping with the scanner on."

"Deal."

They waited three nights. The patrol car came and went. Nothing happened. On the fourth night, Daniel started to think Reyes had been wrong, or Torres had moved on.

On the fifth night, at 2:14 AM, Daniel's phone rang. Frank.

"Window," Frank said. "Now."

Daniel went to the window. At the end of the street, under the streetlight, a man stood looking at Frank's house. Big. Even at a distance, Daniel could see the scar catching the light.

"He's just standing there," Daniel whispered.

"He wants us to know he's here," Frank said. "It's intimidation. Oldest trick."

"What do we do?"

"We do nothing. We let him stand there. And in the morning, I call Alvarez, and she runs his plates, and we —"

Headlights. A patrol car turned onto the street — right on schedule, the 2 AM pass. The man under the streetlight didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just watched the patrol car roll past, slow, and then, as it reached the end of the street, he got into a dark sedan and drove away.

Daniel exhaled. "He's gone."

"For tonight," Frank said. "Daniel — I want you to take Emma's car and go stay at her dorm for a few days. Just until this blows over."

"No."

"Daniel —"

"No. I'm not running. And I'm not leaving you here alone with that guy out there."

Frank was quiet for a moment. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. But we do this smart. Cameras. Lights. And we call Alvarez in the morning."

"We call her now."