Chapter 4
Jax
The station is quieter than usual for a Sunday afternoon, which gives me too much time to think about this morning's chaos.
I've written up the report—all fifteen pages of it—documenting every violation, every piece of property damage, and every witness statement.
Captain Ramirez laughed for ten solid minutes when I got to the part about Gertie wearing a fascinator.
Now I'm staring at Kendall's file. Not the incident report—her actual file. The one that shows three years of exemplary property management, zero complaints, except from Valerie, and multiple commendations from the board for increasing property values and resident satisfaction.
"That's borderline stalking, you know."
I look up to find Declan leaning against my desk, coffee in hand.
"It's research," I say, closing the file. "For the case."
"Right. The case." He takes a sip of coffee. "The case where a goat committed minor property damage that any decent insurance policy will cover."
"There were multiple ordinance violations."
"Were there? Or was there an elderly woman with dementia who needs help?"
Before I can answer, the front desk sergeant calls out, "Masterson! You've got a visitor. Says it's urgent."
Valerie Thornfield storms into the station like she owns it, her heels clicking aggressively against the linoleum.
She's changed since this morning—now wearing what can only be described as her battle outfit…
severe black suit, pearl necklace that probably costs more than my monthly salary, and an expression that could sour milk.
"Officer Masterson," she announces loudly enough for the entire station to hear, "I'm here to file formal harassment charges against Kendall Greene."
"Harassment?" I stand up, keeping my voice level. "On what grounds?"
"She deliberately allowed that animal to assault me. Twice."
"Ma'am, Ms. Greene didn't 'allow' anything. She was trying to contain the situation."
"She's responsible for that building. Everything that happens there is her fault." Valerie pulls out a thick folder with papers. "I have documentation of her failures going back months. Late responses to my complaints. Dismissive attitudes. And now, assault by goat."
"That's not how assault charges work—"
"Furthermore," she continues, steamrolling over me, "I want to get a restraining order. That woman is clearly unstable and poses a threat to my safety."
Declan coughs to cover what sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
"Ma'am," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, "you can't file harassment charges because a tenant's goat knocked you over. And you definitely can't get a restraining order against someone who lives and works in the same building as you."
"Then what can you do?" she demands. "That woman needs to be held accountable!"
"We've documented the incident. Code enforcement is handling the violations. Animal control has the goat. The system is working."
Valerie's face turns an interesting shade of red. "The system is protecting her, you mean. Just like you were this morning."
"I was doing my job."
"Your job seemed to involve staring at her like a lovesick puppy."
Declan definitely laughs this time, turning it into an unconvincing sneeze.
"If you'd like to file a formal complaint about my conduct, Captain Ramirez is in his office," I say, keeping my voice professionally flat.
"Maybe I will." She spins on her heel and marches toward the captain's office.
Ten minutes later, she storms back out, looking even angrier than before. She says nothing to me, just clicks her way to the exit. But as she passes the front desk, I hear her on her phone.
"Brad? Yes, it's time for Plan B. Make it messy."
The door swings shut behind her.
"That sounded ominous," Declan observes.
"Yeah, it did." I pull up Brad Hutchins' record on the computer. Multiple complaints filed against various property managers over the years. Lawsuits that always get settled out of court. The guy's basically a professional problem tenant.
"You think they're working together?"
"I think Valerie wants Kendall gone, and Brad has a history of making property managers' lives hell."
My phone buzzes. It's a text from Hudson.
Hudson: I can see Kendall's car from the fire station. Somebody threw red paint all over it.
I'm out of my chair and heading for the door before I finish reading.
"Where are you going?" Declan calls after me.
"Kendall's here somewhere. Her car just got vandalized."
The parking lot is a mess. Kendall's silver Honda looks like it lost a fight with a paint store. Red paint covers the windshield, the hood, and someone's written "QUIT OR ELSE" across the driver's side door.
Kendall stands beside it, still in her clothes from this morning, though she's found shoes somewhere. She's on the phone, her free hand pressed to her forehead.
"...yes, I understand. No, I'll handle it. The building three situation is already... yes, I'm on my way." She ends the call and turns to find me watching. "Let me guess. More violations?"
"This is vandalism," I say, pulling out my phone to photograph the damage. "You need to file a report."
"I don't have time for a report. I have three properties in crisis, a community room to repair, and a board meeting in three hours where I'm going to lose my job, anyway."
"Kendall—"
"It's fine. It's just paint."
"It's not fine. This is targeted harassment."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You just sent Valerie away, didn't you? She probably did this herself."
"Do you have any proof?"
"Do I ever?" She pulls out her keys, then looks at her paint-covered car. "Great. Now I need an Uber too."
"I'll drive you."
"No."
"Kendall, someone just vandalized your car in a police station parking lot. They're escalating. You need protection."
"What I need is to keep my job." She walks toward the street, presumably to wait for her Uber.
I follow. "Let me help."
"Why?" She spins around to face me. "Why do you care what happens to me?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with ten years of history.
"Because it's my job," I say, taking the coward's way out.
Something flickers in her eyes—disappointment, maybe. "Right. Your job."
Captain Ramirez's voice cuts through the tension. "Masterson! My office. Now."
I look between him and Kendall, torn.
"Go," she says. "Do your job."
By the time I get back outside fifteen minutes later, she's gone. But Captain Ramirez's words are still ringing in my ears: "That woman needs protection whether she wants it or not. Make it happen."
Which is how, an hour later, I find myself standing in front of the property management office at Hibiscus Point with a box of my stuff and official paperwork.
The building manager—not Kendall, but her boss, Mr. Morrison—looks at the paperwork with raised eyebrows.
"Police protection detail?"
"There've been credible threats against Ms. Greene. We need to monitor the situation closely."
"And that requires you to...?"
"Maintain close proximity. The apartment across from hers is vacant, correct?"
"It is, but—"
"The department will cover the rent for the duration of the investigation."
Mr. Morrison looks skeptical. "Does Kendall know about this?"
"She will."
He hands me the keys with a shake of his head. "Unit 4B. Try not to let any goats in."
The apartment is nice—one bedroom, modern kitchen, and a view of the pool where this morning's chaos unfolded. More importantly, it has a clear view of Kendall's door across the hall.
I'm unpacking surveillance equipment when I hear her in the hallway. Her voice carries through the door.
"...no, Mrs. Parsons, you can't have Gertie back yet. I know, I'm sorry. We'll figure something out, I promise."
I open my door just as she's unlocking hers. She freezes, keys still in the lock.
"What are you doing here?"
"Protection detail." I hold up the official paperwork. "Non-negotiable."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Someone vandalized your car. Valerie's making threats. Brad Hutchins has a history of escalating situations. You need protection."
"I need privacy."
"You need to be safe."
She turns to face me fully, and I can see how exhausted she is. There's paint in her hair—probably from her car—and her shoulders slump like they're carrying the weight of the world.
"The board meeting's in two hours," she says quietly. "None of this will matter after that."
"It matters to me."
The words slip out before I can stop them. She looks at me for a long moment, then disappears into her apartment without another word.
I stand in the hallway, staring at her closed door, until my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: Stop protecting her or you'll regret it.
I screenshot the message and forward it to Declan. Then I knock on Kendall's door.
"What?" she calls through it.
"You need to see this."
The door opens a crack. She reads the message on my phone, and I watch the color drain from her face.
"That's not... that's probably just..."
"It's a threat. And you're going to take it seriously."
She opens the door wider, and I can see into her apartment.
It's exactly what I'd expect—organized, professional, but with touches of personality.
Photos of her with the Hooplas gang at various events.
A blanket that looks handmade thrown over the couch.
And on the coffee table, a red dress hanging out of its shopping bag.
She catches me looking. "Mrs. Patterson said red makes men stupid."
"Mrs. Patterson's not wrong."
She almost smiles. "I should get ready. The board meeting..."
"I'll be there."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." I head back to my apartment before I say something else I can't take back. "Lock your door."
"Jax?"
I turn back.
"Thank you," she says softly. "For... all of it."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and retreat to my apartment. Through the peephole, I watch her door for a moment before forcing myself to focus on the case.
Someone's targeting Kendall and they're escalating. I have less than two hours to figure out who before she walks into that board meeting.
My phone buzzes again. Hudson.
Hudson: Kate says Kendall needs backup tonight. We'll be there.
Then Kane.
Kane: Grace is coming too. Nobody messes with our people.
And Declan. Apparently, this is a group chat.
Declan: Running Brad Hutchins' financials. You're gonna want to see this.
I smile despite everything. Kendall might think she's alone, but she's wrong. The whole town has her back.
She just doesn't know it yet.