Sometimes a black vest.
Mark noticed too.
“You got security now?”
“No.”
“That guy has been sitting there twenty minutes.”
“I know.”
“Who is he?”
I took a picture through the window.
“Let’s find out.”
The SUV belonged to a small private security company contracted by Cedar Grove.
I researched them.
Licensed for patrol.
Parking enforcement.
Common area security.
Nothing I found suggested they had authority to enter houses or seize keys.
The driver’s name, I learned later, was Darren Cole.
Darren was thirty seven.
Former nightclub security.
Some private security experience.
No law enforcement authority.
No police commission.
No reason whatsoever to be watching my porch.
The next afternoon, I walked outside while he was parked across the street.
I stayed on my property.
Darren lowered the window.
“Can I help you?”
“You’re the one parked outside my house.”
“HOA patrol.”
“Why?”
“Routine.”
“You’ve been here four nights.”
He shrugged.
“Neighborhood security.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“Then keep moving.”
His face changed.
Not anger exactly.
