They’re wrong.
This is evidence.
I pull out my phone and take three photos from different angles—wide shot, close-up, and a context with the egged house in the background. Every detail matters when you’re building a case.
“I didn’t get off any easier,” Noah says, nodding toward his cabin.
His place looks worse. Eggs cover every visible surface. His truck is absolutely plastered—windows, bed, tailgate, even theroof. Broken eggshells dot the street between our properties like evidence of some kind of poultry-based war zone.
“Well,” Carlotta says, surveying the damage with a sense of calm that suggests she’s seen worse. “Looks like someone’s been playing chicken with the wrong family. Though I gotta say, theyolkis on them. They’re about to get arrested.” She pauses for effect. “Get it? Yolk?”
“We get it,” Lemon mutters.
“Someone really scrambled to make a mess,” Carlotta continues, clearly enjoying the theme. “Must’ve taken a lot of eggs. That’s some seriousfowlplay.”
Lemon frowns at her. “Carlotta?—”
“I mean, they clearly don’t give acluckabout consequences,” she goes on. “But we all know who themother cluckersare.” She grins, entirely too pleased with herself. “I say we grab a sawed-off shotgun and get to work.”
“For once,” Noah says, his voice flat and dark, “I’m in agreement with you.”
“Noah!” Lemon gasps.
“I’m sort of in agreement with that, too,” I say, staring at the mess dripping down my house—my home, where my wife and children sleep, where we’re supposed to be safe—and feeling that cold rage settle back into my chest.
I look toward the Pickens house just below the hillside. I can’t see it from here, but I know exactly where it is. And I know exactly who did this.
“This is vandalism,” Lemon says, bouncing Ozzy, who’s now fascinated by a bird in the tree. “We can press charges, right?”
“I’m already planning to,” Noah says. “Of course, I’ll check both of our security cameras. There’s no way they could have evaded them all. Then I’ll stop by their place in another cruiser this morning. Hopefully, Tammy will be home, too. She deserves to know what her husband’s parenting style is producing.”
I nod slowly. “I’ll let you takethe first step.”
“What’s the second step?” Lemon asks, looking between us.
I meet Noah’s eyes. We’re thinking the same thing. I can see it in his expression, the same controlled fury, the same desire for consequences that actually matter.
“I’m filing a civil suit for property damage, and I have a few colleagues who owe me favors. This is going to cost Daryl every penny he doesn’t have.” I adjust my robe, wishing I were in a suit so I’d feel more like the judge I am and less like a man standing in his driveway in sleepwear. “He thinks he can hide behind his door and let his kids run wild? He’s about to learn that actions have consequences. Legal, expensive, life-altering consequences.”
Carlotta lets out a low whistle. “Sexy’s getting serious.”
“Methodical,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
Lemon looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“I just hope Tammy opens her eyes to what’s happening when she’s at work,” she says quietly.
“She will,” Noah says. “Because I’m going to make sure she knows exactly what her husband has been up to while she’s away.”
I nod. “You handle the criminal charges. I’ll handle the civil suit. Between the two of us, we’ll make sure Daryl understands he picked the wrong family to mess with.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Carlotta asks.
“Then we escalate,” Noah says simply.
“To what?” Lemon asks.
My mouth curves slightly, and it isn’t a friendly smile. It’s the one I use in court right before someone’s life takes a hard turn.
