There was a pause, a long dragging silence. One of those moments where they expected her to explain more to make it easier for them to believe she belonged. She didn't.
"You here often?" Miller asked, cocking his head like he was studying wildlife.
"Every Sunday, same chair, same playlist, same peace and quiet. Until today."
Braxton's fingers tapped the edge of her license. "We're not accusing you of anything, Miss Johnson. We're just following up on a complaint."
"Right," she said. "And that complaint said what exactly?"
He hesitated just for a second. "Unfamiliar woman at the pool, possibly loitering. Caller said you looked out of place."
Belle felt it hit. The phrase "out of place." It wasn't the first time it had been used. Not in this way. Not about her. But the meaning behind it never changed. She wasn't part of the background here. She didn't fit the default image of what safe looked like.
"And did the caller mention that this unfamiliar woman was doing anything threatening?" she asked.