The afternoon continued, but the incident remained in the back of everyone's mind.
At approximately five thirty, Patricia's husband arrived home.
Richard Miller parked his silver SUV in the driveway and noticed his wife standing near the front window.
She looked irritated.
He entered the house and placed his briefcase on the kitchen counter.
"What's wrong?"
Patricia turned immediately.
"You're not going to believe what happened today."
Richard sighed.
"That usually means somebody complained about something."
"This is serious."
He looked at her.
"What happened?"
Patricia began describing the barbecue, the four men, and the police officers.
She emphasized that she had felt uncomfortable and that the men had been gathering outside for hours.
Richard listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he asked a simple question.
"Did they actually do anything?"
Patricia frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Did they threaten you? Did they damage anything? Did they come onto our property?"
"No."
"Did they make threats?"
"No, Richard. But I didn't know who they were."
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"Patricia, Marcus lives next door. You've known that for three years."
"That doesn't mean I know his friends."
"People are allowed to have friends."
She looked offended.
"Why are you taking his side?"
"I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm trying to understand why you called 911."
"Because I felt unsafe!"
Richard remained silent for several seconds.
Then he said something that Patricia did not expect.
"Do you think you would have called if those four men had been white?"
Patricia stared at him.
"What kind of question is that?"
"A simple one."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
She turned away.
Richard knew his wife well enough to recognize when she was avoiding a question.
He had watched her complain about delivery drivers, maintenance workers, and visitors who didn't fit her idea of what the neighborhood should look like.
He had dismissed many of those incidents as harmless irritations.
But this was different.
She had involved emergency services.
And now he was beginning to wonder how many times she had mistaken her assumptions for facts.
The following morning, Marcus received an unexpected phone call.
It was from his business partner, Daniel Brooks.
"Marcus, have you checked your email?"
"Not yet. Why?"
"There's a message from the homeowners' association."
Marcus frowned.
"What about?"
"Apparently, somebody submitted a complaint about excessive gatherings and possible disturbances at your property."
Marcus leaned back in his office chair.
"Let me guess. Patricia?"
Daniel laughed briefly.
"That's what I thought, but I can't confirm it."
Marcus opened his email.
The message was polite, formal, and carefully worded.
The homeowners' association had received a complaint alleging repeated disturbances at his residence. It requested that he review the community guidelines regarding outdoor gatherings, noise levels, and guest parking.
Marcus read it twice.
He had hosted several gatherings over the previous three years.
Never once had the association contacted him about a violation.
He checked the date.
The complaint had been submitted less than twelve hours after Patricia called the police.
"Daniel," he said, "I think yesterday was only the beginning."
"What are you going to do?"
Marcus looked out through the glass wall of his office.
"I'll handle it properly."
He opened a new document and began writing down everything he remembered.
The time the officers arrived.
Their names and badge numbers.
The questions they asked.
Patricia's statements.
The dispatch classification.
He also contacted the police department's records division to request information about the incident.
He wanted the body-camera footage preserved, along with the dispatch recording.
He was not interested in revenge.
He wanted an accurate record.
Because something told him that Patricia was not going to stop.
On Monday morning, Marcus received another surprise.
His house was not the only property Patricia had complained about.
A neighbor named Linda Harris approached him while he was collecting his mail.
Linda was a retired nurse who had lived in Willow Creek for nearly twenty years.
"Marcus, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"I heard the police came to your house Saturday."
Marcus nodded.
"Yes. Somebody called about my guests."
Linda shook her head.
"Patricia?"
He gave her a cautious look.
"How did you know?"
Linda sighed.
"Because she did something similar to me last year."
Marcus was surprised.
"What happened?"
Linda glanced toward Patricia's house before continuing.
"My nephew came to visit. He parked in front of my house, got out, and walked toward my front door. Patricia called the police and said there was a suspicious man trying to enter my property."
"Was your nephew carrying anything?"
"His suitcase."
Marcus frowned.
"What happened?"