“Who had access?”
“We’re determining that.”
“Brenda?”
“Yes.”
“Darren?”
“Potentially.”
I thought about Mrs. Bell.
Rachel.
Mark.
Everyone who had decided it was easier to surrender.
“They need new locks.”
“They’re being notified.”
The neighborhood exploded.
People who had defended the policy suddenly realized the HOA had been storing direct access to their homes in an office cabinet.
One resident discovered his envelope had been opened.
Another insisted his key looked duplicated.
Police could not immediately prove unauthorized entry had occurred, but fear spread.
Locksmith vans filled the street.
Residents demanded emergency meetings.
Lawyers started calling.
Brenda stopped being vice president within twenty four hours.
Not formally at first.
Practically.
Nobody listened to her anymore.
Then Darren woke after surgery.
His injuries were severe.
Both legs had sustained major damage during the shooting.
Doctors could not promise normal recovery.
Later reports suggested permanent nerve injury.
Eventually, I learned he would never walk normally again and might never walk independently at all.
