Chapter 3: What Patty Kept to Herself
Her name was Patty Ohlsen.
She'd lived in the yellow house on our left for eleven years, longer than us, longer than Dale.
She kept a tidy garden, waved from her driveway, and mostly stayed out of everyone's business.
Rob texted back immediately: *Can we talk tonight?*
Her reply came in under a minute.
*Porch.
Nine o'clock.
Come alone.*
He showed me the message.
I looked at him.
"Alone?"
"She probably doesn't want it to feel like a confrontation," he said.
"I'll go.
You stay with the kids."
I didn't sleep while he was out there.
I sat at the kitchen table with a cold cup of tea and watched the clock.
He came back at nine forty-two.
"Sit down," he said.
I already was.
He pulled out the chair across from me and leaned forward with his elbows on the table.
"Patty has been watching Dale for three years."
"Watching him how?"
"She didn't use that word.
She said she'd been keeping notes.
Dates, times, what she saw." He paused.
"Apparently we're not the first family he's done this to."
I set down my cup.
"What do you mean?"
"The couple before us.
The Garcias.
You remember them?"
"They moved out in 2019."
"They moved out because of him.
Patty says he made their life miserable for two years.
Complained to the city about their fence height, reported their dog three times for noise, and the apple thing — he did the same thing to their son."
"Their son was maybe eight years old."
"Seven," Rob said.
"Patty watched it from her upstairs window.
She said the boy cried the whole way across the yard."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"Why didn't she do anything then?"
Rob looked at his hands.
"She said she didn't think anyone would believe her.
Dale's been here since 1987.
He knows people on the block.
He's on the neighborhood association email list.
She thought if she said something, it would just be her word against his and she'd end up with a new enemy next door."
"So she stayed quiet."
"Until Sunday." He looked up.
"She was in her upstairs bedroom when it happened.
She saw Maya making those trips.
She counted them.
Four trips, she said.
She saw Dale take the bag.
She saw him say something to you from across the fence." He stopped.
"She said she saw Maya's face when she walked back to the house."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"She has notes going back to 2021," Rob said.
"Dates.
Incidents.
She wrote down the Garcia boy's name."
"Does she still have them?"
He reached into his jacket pocket and set a small spiral notebook on the table between us.
"She gave me the original."
I looked at it but didn't touch it.
"Rob.
What exactly are we going to do with all of this?"
He was quiet for a second.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
"I already sent an email to the county assessor's office this afternoon.
About the tree.
About the branch line.
About the formal process for encroachment."
"You filed something?"
"Not yet.
I asked about the process.
But there's something else." He tapped the notebook.
"The county has a neighbor dispute mediation program.
It's on record.
If we go through it, everything Patty wrote down becomes part of a documented file."
I finally reached out and touched the cover of the notebook.
It was soft from handling.
The corners were bent.
She'd been carrying this around for a long time.
"Does Dale know she kept this?"
"No," Rob said.
May you like
He looked at me steadily.
"And that's exactly why it matters."
