No liens, no theft reports, no flags in the system. Vanessa's mouth opened slightly, but she recovered quickly. That doesn't prove anything. Papers can be forged. Identity theft happens all the time.
Rich people get their cars stolen, and the thieves are smart enough to make fake documents. Marcus reached slowly into his back pocket. His movements deliberate and visible. Officer Reeves, here's my driver's license. You can also check the property records.
I purchased this house two weeks ago. Reeves took the license and walked back to the patrol car, leaving Bellamy standing awkwardly between Marcus and Vanessa. The neighborhood had grown quieter, but more people were watching from their windows and front yards. Someone had called others because cars were slowing down as they passed the house. Mrs.
Patterson had moved closer, her phone still recording. "Officer," she called out. This young man was here yesterday directing the moving trucks. The real estate agent introduced him to several of us as the new owner. Bellamy shot her a look that could have frozen water.
Ma'am, please step back and let us handle this investigation. But Mrs. Patterson didn't back down. She was 72 years old, had lived in Ashborne Crest since it was built, and had buried two husbands who fought in wars so people could speak freely in America. I'm standing on a public sidewalk, Officer Bellamy, and I'm telling you what I witnessed with my own eyes.
Reeves returned with the information, his face grim. Property records confirm Marcus Ellison purchased this residence on October 15th for $2.1 million. Cash transaction, no mortgage, everything checks out completely. The silence stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Vanessa's face had gone pale except for two bright spots of red on her cheeks.
Bellamy looked like he wanted to disappear into his uniform. Marcus spoke into that silence, his voice carrying clearly to everyone watching. Officers, I want this false report documented officially. Miss Halbrook accused me of stealing my own car from my own driveway without asking a single question or requesting identification. She made assumptions based on my appearance and her prejudices.
"Now wait just a minute," Vanessa exploded. "I don't have to apologize for being cautious. This neighborhood has standards. And when someone doesn't look like they belong, "What exactly do I not look like?" Marcus interrupted, his calm tone making her words sound even more poisonous.