Get away from that Rolls-Royce right now before I have the police drag you off this street. Darius Holloway slowly turned toward Lenora Vale, still standing in his own driveway. Ma'am, that is my car. This is my house, and you need to leave my property. Your car?
Please. You look more like someone hired to clean it than someone who owns it. 911, please send officers now. There's a man interfering with a car in this driveway, and I need help right away. Two patrol officers hurried toward the driveway as Lenora pointed at Darius and demanded they put him in handcuffs.
Darius stayed calm. Lenora had no idea her cruel 911 call was about to destroy everything she controlled. The late afternoon sun caught the pearl white finish of the Rolls-Royce as Darius Holloway balanced the final cardboard box against his hip and reached for his keys. Three days of driving back and forth from his apartment had finally emptied the storage unit. Tomorrow morning he would walk into police headquarters as the new chief.
Tonight he just wanted to sit in his father's old kitchen and remember what home felt like. The house looked smaller than it had 30 years ago. The paint was faded. The front steps sagged slightly, but the mortgage was paid off, and the deed had his name on it now. After decades of chasing promotions in other cities, Darius was back where he started.
He shifted the box to get a better grip and heard footsteps pounding across grass. "Excuse me." Darius turned toward the voice. A white woman in her 50s marched across the adjoining lawn, her expensive jewelry catching the sunlight. Her blonde hair was pulled back tight. Her face was red with anger.
"What are you doing with that car?" she demanded. Darius set the box on the hood of the Rolls-Royce. "I'm sorry." "That car." She pointed at the vehicle like it had personally offended her. "Why are you touching it?" "Because it's mine." The woman laughed. actually laughed. "That's a Rolls-Royce.
I know what it is. Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Darius kept his voice level. "About as much as I paid for it." Her eyes narrowed. "I've lived in this neighborhood for 15 years. I know everyone who lives here.
I've never seen you before in my life. I just moved in." To whose house? Mine. Darius picked up the box again. This is private property.
You need to leave. The woman stepped closer instead. I don't think so. I think you're stealing that car from whoever lives here. Ma'am, I'm asking you politely to get off my property.
Your property? Her voice rose to a near shriek. You just showed up today. Nobody sells a house without the neighborhood association knowing about it. Darius felt something familiar settle in his chest.
30 years of dealing with difficult people had taught him to recognize when reason would not work. This woman had already decided who he was and what he was doing. Nothing he said would change her mind. "The car belongs to me," he said quietly. "The house belongs to me.
You need to leave now. I don't believe you." The woman pulled out her phone and stepped back toward the street. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen. 911. Yes, I need police immediately.
She kept her eyes locked on Darius while she spoke. I'm at 247 Maple Grove Drive. There's a man here tampering with a Rolls-Royce. I think he's trying to steal it. Darius felt his jaw tighten.
She was calling 911 on him while he stood in his own driveway. I personally witnessed him forcing his way into the vehicle. The woman continued. I think the homeowner might be in danger. That was a lie.
Darius had unlocked the car with his own key. She had seen him do it normally. The woman ended the call and smiled at him. The police are on their way. Darius reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet.
Inside was a gold badge and official identification card, both issued 3 days ago by the city personnel department. Chief of Police Darius Holloway. He slipped the credentials from the wallet and held them behind his back out of the woman's sight. She wanted to see what happened when police arrived to investigate a black man supposedly stealing his own car. Fine.
He wanted to see the same thing. Two patrol cars rounded the corner with their emergency lights flashing. They pulled into the driveway behind the Rolls-Royce. The woman pointed triumphantly toward Daras. Now we'll see who that car really belongs to.
Two officers stepped from their patrol car. The first was tall and broad-shouldered with graying hair at his temples. His name plate readmer Mercer. The second officer was younger, Hispanic, with careful eyes that took in every detail of the scene. His name plate said Ruiz.
Lenora rushed toward them before Darius could speak. Officers, thank God you're here. She pointed at Darius like he was a dangerous animal. That man has stolen that Rolls-Royce. I saw him breaking into it with my own eyes.
Mercer's expression shifted the moment he saw her. His posture straightened. His voice became more formal. Mrs. Vale, what exactly did you witness? Darius noticed the change immediately.
These two knew each other. I was in my garden when I heard noise from next door, Lenora said, her voice shaking with fake emotion. I looked over and saw him forcing his way into that car. When I confronted him, he claimed it belonged to him. Can you imagine a Rolls-Royce?
Ma'am, that's not what happened, Darius said calmly. Don't interrupt her, Mercer snapped without looking at him. He turned back to Lenora. Mrs. Vale, are you certain about what you saw? Absolutely certain.
And I don't think he just stole the car. I think he might have broken into the house, too. I've never seen him before today. He just appeared out of nowhere with expensive property that obviously doesn't belong to him. Ruiz stepped closer to the Rolls-Royce and examined it carefully.
Is there any damage to the vehicle? Broken glass? Signs of forced entry? Lenora waved her hand dismissively. He probably has tools.