“Just a mark,” I said, keeping my voice even. “One that cost you about twenty-five grand.”
Her smile slipped. Just a little.
We turned and walked away. Lindsey called after us, but we didn’t answer. We didn’t slam the door. Just closed it.
Later that evening, when the sun dipped low and the streetlights flickered on, I made a call. Short. Calm. “Civilian interference. Property tampering. Might want to send someone in the morning.”
“Understood,” came the reply.
Jack grinned from the couch. “You think she’s ready?”
“She will be.”
At sunrise, the black SUV rolled up in front of Lindsey’s house like something out of a spy film. A man in a dark suit stepped out, sunglasses on, steps deliberate. He nodded at me, and we walked together to her porch.
When Lindsey opened the door, her robe looked fluffier. Her face looked sleep-deprived. The coffee mug in her hands read: Live, Laugh, Love.
The agent flashed a badge.
“Ma’am, due to your actions yesterday, you are now under investigation for interfering with an active federal operation.”
She went pale.
“You ordered the towing of two marked government vehicles,” he continued. “You delayed and compromised an ongoing investigation. Estimated damages: twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Her mug slipped from her hands and shattered on the porch.
Jack stepped forward. “Maybe next time, don’t act like the sheriff of suburbia.”
The agent handed her a card. “Our office will be in contact. You are not to leave the area or contact anyone involved.”
And just like that, he left.
I gave her one last glance. “Next time, Lindsey… just stick to baking cookies.”
We walked home in silence. Her door stayed cracked for a while after. Her blinds never opened that day. And those rose bushes she bragged about on day one?
They started to wilt not long after. Funny how karma has a green thumb, too.
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