“Is she gone now?” she asked.
I closed my eyes briefly. “She’s out with that lawyer. But she’s not gone.”
From the stroller, Nicholas started to cry, and Margo lifted him to her lap, smoothing down his red baby-fine curls. “Well, then,” she said absently, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the baby.
“Where’s Paul?” I asked. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him in weeks. If something had happened with them, no one had mentioned his absence; his was a silent retreat.
“Stuck at work,” she said, patting the baby’s back, then shushing him, not giving me room for a follow-up question. “I told Charlotte a seven o’clock meeting wouldn’t be doable for everyone. But you know how she is.”
As if on cue, Charlotte’s voice boomed over the space. “Can everyone hear me?” she called, hands held out from her sides, as if summoning something.
The chatter fell to murmurs. I looked around the pool deck at the rest of the neighbors pulling closer, and I felt claustrophobic. The families from the street behind ours, scraping the chairs against the pool deck. Eyes darting away when my gaze met theirs.
Mac was just walking in through the open gate, side by side with his brother, Preston. They maneuvered through the sea of chairs, heading toward an open spot near the back, nodding to neighbors as they passed. At least half of the households were represented here tonight. Word had spread quickly.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight.” Charlotte’s voice always rose above the crowd, though she wasn’t loud; it was more that the others quieted to compensate. “I know we’ve been over this before, but I thought it would help to revisit protocol. Please, please, remember we are all volunteers, so let’s not demand more of people than they’re offering. Okay?”
A shuffling of fabric. A cough near the back.
Charlotte nodded to herself, then continued. “We are asking for as many people as possible to sign up for one full evening, so the requirement will remain low on each person. I know it’s difficult to give up a consistent time slot, week after week. So we found that this works a little better. You give a full night if you can, and then you can be done with it for the month. We ask for periodic walk-throughs from dusk to dawn. Obviously, if you want to split the responsibility with someone else, be my guest. I’ll leave a sign-up sheet here, and we can go over any logistics together. We just want to know who to contact, who to be on the lookout for each night. I remember last year, my girls were nervous because they didn’t know Javier had a new car.” A wink in his direction, a light chuckle through the crowd.
“As a reminder, or to those of you new to this…” She scanned the crowd. None of us was new to this. “Here’s a quick recap of what you are and are not permitted to do.”
We had heard all of this last time from Chase, who had stood up in that very spot in his police uniform and walked us through exactly where the legal line lay. As if he himself weren’t crossing it at that moment.
“You do have the right to tell someone that this is a private neighborhood,” Charlotte continued. “You do have the right to ask who they are visiting. But you do not have the right to detain them. Most crimes will be deterred by the presence of someone in authority. Regardless, you should call the police promptly after a suspicious encounter to have it on record. We recommend keeping a log of anything you see, anyone you speak with who isn’t from the neighborhood.”
“Who counts as from the neighborhood?” A voice boomed behind me, and I turned to see Preston Seaver, hand raised even as he was already speaking. “For instance, what if the issue is with someone already staying in the neighborhood?” Beside him, Mac remained perfectly still, eyes forward. As if he had no opinion in the matter.
Charlotte gave him a tight smile. “If there’s an issue, same rules apply. Call the police.”
“I mean, we’re allowed to walk at night, though, right?” another man asked, sitting at a table to my right. He lived in the court behind us, alone. He’d been engaged, but his fiancée had left sometime last year. He shifted forward on his chair, and I briefly caught sight of Chase, leaning against the side of the entrance.
“Of course,” Charlotte said. “We all know one another here. Use your discretion, Pete.”
We knew what these questions were implying and what Charlotte’s responses were acknowledging. We were all here to keep track of Ruby Fletcher. To watch out for her. To watch her.