Chapter 7: The Woman Who Was Watching
I texted Patricia back and asked if she'd be willing to meet.
She said yes.
The next morning.
Same coffee shop.
She was younger than I'd expected — early forties, maybe, with the slightly exhausted look of someone managing more than she let on.
She shook my hand when I sat down and said, "I want you to know I almost didn't come to that gathering.
I'm glad I did now."
"What did you see Renee say to Gerald?" I asked.
"I was walking my dog past his house.
She was on his porch.
I couldn't hear everything — I wasn't trying to listen — but I heard her say 'liability' and 'the association should know.' And then she saw me and stopped talking." Patricia wrapped her hands around her cup.
"The way she stopped — it wasn't embarrassment.
It was just — she closed it off.
Like turning off a tap."
"When was this?"
"Four days ago."
Four days ago, my son had already been to the ER.
Four days ago, I had already found Diane's note.
Renee had known by then that at least one of her guests had come to my door.
And she'd kept going.
"Patricia," I said.
"Will you give a written statement about what you heard?"
"Yes." She said it the same way Diane had — without hesitation.
"I should have said something sooner.
I've been on this street for six years.
I know you.
I've waved to you at the mailbox.
I've seen you with your son." She looked down.
"I sat there that night while she talked and I didn't say a single word.
I've been thinking about that ever since."
I called Ruth from the parking lot.
"She went to the HOA board chair," I said.
"Four days ago.
After the ER.
After she knew one of her own guests had warned me."
Ruth was quiet for a moment.
"She's not stopping.
She's escalating."
"What do we do?"
"We move first." I heard papers shifting on her end.
"I'm going to send a formal letter to Gerald today.
Notifying him that we are aware of communications made to him regarding my client, that those communications contain false statements, and that any action taken based on those statements will be considered part of a documented pattern of harassment." She paused.
"I'm also going to send a letter to Renee directly."
"What will it say?"
"It will say that we are aware of the false report made to the school, the false statements made to neighbors, and the communications made to the HOA.
It will say that we are in the process of gathering witness statements.
And it will say that if any further communications of this nature are made to any third party, we will pursue legal action."
I stood in the parking lot with the sun on my face.
"Will that stop her?"
"It will tell us who she really is," Ruth said.
"Some people get a letter like that and they stop.
They were counting on you not fighting back.
Others — " A pause.
"Others see it as a challenge."
The letter went out that afternoon.
Renee signed for it the next morning.
I know because Ruth's office used certified mail and the tracking updated at 9:47 a.m.
By noon, Renee had knocked on three of my neighbors' doors.
Gerald called me at two o'clock.
"I think you should know," he said, his voice careful and a little uncomfortable, "that your neighbor came to speak with me this morning.
She was — very upset about a letter she'd received."
"I know about the letter," I said.
"My lawyer sent it."
A pause.
"She's saying you're trying to intimidate her."
"Gerald." I kept my voice steady.
"Did she tell you she made a call to my son's school?
That she told them his home environment was unstable?"
Silence.
"Did she tell you my son was in the ER that night with a cardiac episode?
That one of her own guests blocked my driveway while I was trying to get him to the hospital?"
More silence.
"I have two witness statements," I said.
"I have my son's discharge paperwork.
I have four pages of documented incidents going back eight months.
My lawyer has all of it." I paused.
"Whatever she told you this morning — I'd like you to think about whether it matches anything you've actually seen from me in the six years I've lived on this street."
Gerald didn't answer right away.
Then he said, quietly: "No.
It doesn't."
"Thank you, Gerald."
I hung up.
My hands were shaking — but not from fear this time.
That evening, my phone rang.
May you like
A number I recognized immediately.
Renee.
