“Good.”

“And the county electrical inspector.”

Her jaw tightened.

“And the sheriff.”

She leaned forward.

“You are escalating a misunderstanding.”

“I spent thirty years working on electrical distribution systems. I know the difference between a misunderstanding and an unauthorized load.”

Her eyes hardened.

“Willow Creek Estates is a fully permitted community. We don't need anything from your little workshop.”

“You needed enough power to run your wellness center without showing homeowners what it really costs.”

One of her assistants looked at her.

She noticed.

“Leave us.”

The assistants disappeared.

The door closed.

Sheila lowered her voice.

“You don't get to walk into my office and embarrass me.”

“You embarrassed yourself when you stole from me.”

“You have no proof I authorized anything.”

“Then you won't object to an investigation.”

Her face hardened.

“Do not threaten me, Martin.”

“Don't steal from me, Sheila.”

She stood.

“You're a bitter old man who's angry because this community improved the area around your outdated property.”

“My outdated property is powering your luxury sauna.”

Her face turned red.

I picked up my folder.

“You owe $3,412 as of this morning. I want reimbursement, a written acknowledgment, and immediate disconnection by licensed personnel.”

She laughed.

“Or what?”

“I protect my equipment.”

“If you touch anything connected to our infrastructure, I'll have you arrested.”

“Your illegal connection isn't community infrastructure.”

“It will be when our attorneys are finished.”

“You should hire better attorneys than whoever approved stealing from a retired grid engineer.”

Her nostrils flared.

“Get out.”

“You have until Friday at five.”

“For what?”

“Payment and a licensed disconnection plan.”

“You'll get nothing.”

“Then neither will your unauthorized load.”

I walked out.

She didn't say another word.

She didn't need to.

Her silence had already told me everything.

Five O'Clock Friday

Friday came.

No payment.

No contractor.

No phone call.

At 4:47 p.m., I received an email from Sheila's attorney.

It accused me of harassment.

Defamation.

Interference with HOA operations.

And something called:

Hostile Utility Intimidation.

I'd never heard that phrase before.

I printed it.

Added it to my file.

At 5:01, I checked my bank account.

Nothing.

At 5:15, I stood in my workshop and looked through the window.

Across the fence, Willow Creek's enormous monument sign glowed against the dark.

WELCOME TO WILLOW CREEK ESTATES.

Bright white letters.

Beautiful.

Expensive.

And partially powered by me.

I looked at the folder on my workbench.