Chapter 1

My name is Elodie Bellamy, and I'm twenty-six.

All I wanted was some peace and quiet. So I drained my savings, took out a mortgage, and bought the end unit at Laurelmont. It was the only one on the row with a private backyard of its own.

I'd just spent a small fortune having that yard redone. The hydrangeas and roses hadn't been in the ground two weeks. I figured the rest of my life would be tea and books out on the patio.

Then I moved in, and the nightmare started on day one.

That afternoon I was in the living room unpacking boxes of books when I heard a kid laughing outside. High and shrill. Then came the sound of branches snapping.

I frowned, walked over to the sliding door, and looked out. It took about two seconds for me to get furious.

A boy, maybe seven or eight, was beating my new hydrangeas with a stick. Petals and broken stems were scattered all over the ground.

A woman stood next to him in a silk robe, holding up her phone, filming him and smiling.

"That's it, Bentley! Get the monster!"

I yanked the door open and walked out, holding my temper. "Who are you? Who said you could come in here?"

The woman lowered her phone and looked me up and down. "You must be the new owner. I'm Bianca, I live right next door. We're neighbors. What's wrong with me bringing my son out for some fresh air?"

"Fresh air? This is my private yard." I pointed at the mess on the ground. "He destroyed my flowers. You're trespassing."

Bianca didn't apologize. She laughed, and her voice went up about an octave.

"Private yard? Oh please. The landscaping around here belongs to everybody! Bentley played out here every single day when the old owner had the place. You move in and suddenly it's yours? What kind of selfish person are you?"

That actually made me laugh.

When I bought the house, the survey attached to my deed spelled it out. This piece of land belonged to the end unit and nobody else. I'd paid eighty thousand dollars extra for it. Real money, out of my own pocket.

I went back inside, brought out the folder, and laid the pages in front of her one at a time. Then I put my finger on the property line.

"See for yourself. This land is on my deed."

Bianca didn't even glance down.

"Who do you think you're scaring with a few pieces of paper?" She lifted her chin. "My husband is Preston. He's vice president of the Laurelmont board. Around here, he decides which piece of land belongs to who. Not your paperwork."

My hands were shaking around the folder.

"The flowers come to twenty-six hundred dollars. Pay me today and I'll let it go."

"Twenty-six hundred? Are you that desperate for money?" Bianca grabbed her son and pulled him behind her, though he was still swinging at whatever was left. "Twenty-six hundred for a few weeds? My husband makes enough in a year to buy half your house. What does a single woman with no man even need a yard this big for?"

The boy saw his mother going off, and instead of backing down, he leaned over, grabbed a fistful of wet dirt out of the flower bed, and threw it at me.

It hit me square in the chest.

"Witch! This is my yard!" He stuck his tongue out at me.

Bianca covered her mouth and laughed. "Oh come on, he's a little kid. You're a grown woman. You're not going to hold that against a child, are you?"

I looked down at the dirt all over my shirt and took a breath.

Arguing with people like this was a waste of my life.

"I won't hold it against the child." I took out my phone and dialed the non-emergency police line right in front of her. "I'll just call the police."

Bianca didn't try to stop me. She folded her arms and stood there watching me dial.

The dispatcher heard me out, and she was very polite about it.

"Ma'am, if there's a dispute over who owns the yard, that's a civil matter. We don't get involved. You'd want to file a complaint with your HOA first."

"Her son destroyed my property."

"Is the other party a minor?"

"He's eight."

"Then you'd have to pursue that as a civil claim. You could look into small claims court."

I hung up.

Bianca was laughing so hard her shoulders shook.

"You hear that? I told you." She took her son's hand and started strolling toward the gate. "Go ahead and call. Call ten more times. You'll get the same answer."

I didn't say a word. I followed them to the gate.

Once they were out, I shut it, took the new padlock out of my pocket, and snapped it closed while she watched.

Bianca stared at the lock through the fence. The smile was gone.

"You lock that gate," she said, "and I'll break it every time I see it."