Reyes stepped smoothly into her path. "Mrs. Rosenberg, please stay with me. You can tell him later. Right now, I’m investigating a possible crime."
Nancy froze. The irritation on her face melted into sheer disbelief. "A crime? I’m the one who called."
"That does not automatically make you the victim," Reyes said calmly.
Across the lawn, Officer Foster was speaking quietly with Elena. Maya stood in the doorway, still clutching the dog. Nancy watched them, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "They’re going to make me the bad person."
"I don’t know who did what yet," Reyes replied. "So tell me."
Nancy crossed her arms and recounted her version of the afternoon. But as she spoke, Reyes's calm, methodical questions began to corner her. He had to slow her down repeatedly, dismantling her justifications with simple facts.
"You went through the patio gate?" Reyes asked. "It’s a shared community," Nancy deflected. "But the deck belongs to Unit 58." Nancy sighed heavily. "Yes." "Did Elena invite you onto the deck?" "No." "Did you grab her?" "I was trying to prevent her from pointing the machine at me. I may have touched her arm."
Officer Reyes looked across the lawn at the red marks on Elena's skin. "She has visible injuries."
"Those are not injuries!" Nancy insisted, her voice shrill.
"Did you enter the house?" Reyes pressed.
Nancy looked away, the reality of her actions finally piercing through her armor of righteousness. "The door was open," she whispered.
For the first time since moving to Hawthorne Ridge, Nancy Rosenberg realized that in her desperate attempt to enforce the rules, she was the only one who had broken them.