Chapter 4 - Everybody Had a Story
The emergency meeting was supposed to be about Grandma's decorations.
It lasted twelve minutes before it became about Brent and Melissa.
Mrs. Alvarez spoke first.
"He moved my recycling bin because he said it was visible from the street."
A man named Greg lifted his hand.
"She complained about my son's basketball hoop."
Another neighbor said Melissa had photographed a delivery truck parked in front of his house for nine minutes.
"Nine?" Grandma whispered to me.
"Apparently she timed it."
Then a woman in the back said, "They told my daughter not to chalk on our own sidewalk."
Brent shot to his feet.
"This is a pile-on."
Mr. Talbot raised both hands.
"Sit down, Brent."
"No. This meeting is supposed to be about June's decorations."
"No," Grandma said.
Every head turned.
She sat near the front with Grandpa's cracked pumpkin on the floor beside her chair.
"This meeting is about what happened after someone decided my decorations were their business."
Brent laughed sharply.
"Again, you have no proof."
I plugged my laptop into the community room television.
The doorbell footage appeared.
Two figures entered Grandma's yard.
The room went quiet.
Brent leaned back.
"That could be anybody."
Grandma nodded.
"Sure could."
Melissa's white dog wandered into frame.
Someone in the room said, "Oh, come on."
Melissa's face went pale.
Brent spoke too quickly.
"Lots of people own white dogs."
Mrs. Alvarez turned around.
"Not lots of white dogs answer to Pickles."
On the video, faint but audible, a woman's voice whispered, "Pickles, get back here."
Nobody moved.
Melissa stared at the floor.
Then she made her first real mistake.
"The microphone shouldn't even pick that up from that far away."
The room froze.
Brent turned toward her slowly.
Melissa's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Grandma rested one hand on the cracked pumpkin.
"Well," she said softly. "That's interesting."
And for the first time since Sunday morning, Brent looked afraid.
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