Ethan looked at me. I just shrugged, equally confused.
Jonathan stepped out.
“Hi. Could you both come with me? I need to talk to Melinda, and I think you should be there.”
I didn’t ask questions. Something in his tone told me this wasn’t routine.
We walked across the yard together. Before Jonathan could knock, Melinda opened the door. She was smiling widely. But the second she saw us standing behind Jonathan, that smile disappeared.
“Hi. Could you both come with me?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice tight.
Jonathan pulled out his phone.
“I think it’s better if I show you.”
He tapped the screen and pressed play.
The video showed Melinda standing at the edge of our fence late in the evening, cutting through the fence and stepping into our yard. She walked straight to the shelter, then started tearing it apart piece by piece.
“What’s going on?”
Deliberate. Careful. Quiet.
The dogs whimpered and hid in a corner of the yard.
Then Melinda slipped back through the same opening, as if nothing had happened.
Ethan stepped forward slightly. “Why?”
Melinda looked shocked at first. Then whatever she’d been holding back came out all at once.
“I lost patience and felt ignored! It was ruining everything! The noise, the look of it — it brings down the whole property. I’ve been planning renovations, and that thing,” she gestured toward our yard, “was going to affect the value.”
“It was ruining everything.”
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