Chapter 4 - The Sound of Red and Blue
The local police department in the small coastal town of Holloway Inlet consisted of five full-time officers, two beach patrol vehicles, and a chief named Miller who had known Khloe’s father for thirty years. They didn't get many bank robberies or high-speed chases, but they took residential property protection very seriously, especially during the summer season when the town’s economy depended entirely on the tax revenue from waterfront homes.
It took them exactly seven minutes to arrive.
On the screen, two white-and-blue Ford Explorers pulled into the driveway, their red and blue lights flashing against the silver cedar shingles of the house. The siren was still screaming from the eaves, a brutal, rhythmic wail that had brought three neighbors out onto their docks with binoculars.
Officer Vance—a young cop with a thick neck and a serious expression—stepped out of the lead vehicle, his hand resting casually on his utility belt. He looked at the three cars, the utility trailer, the thirty-foot boat blocking the narrow road, and the thirteen people standing on the lawn in various states of fury and confusion.
My father walked toward the police car, his hand still wrapped around his injured wrist, his chest pushed out as if he were approaching an employee he intended to fire.
“Officer, thank God you’re here,” Arthur shouted over the siren. “I’m Arthur Bennett. This is my family. My son has had some kind of mental breakdown and changed the locks on our vacation home. He’s locked our kids out in the heat, and he’s jammed the emergency key inside the door. I need you to use your entry tool to clear the front lock so we can get our groceries into the refrigerator.”
Officer Vance looked at my father’s face, then at the iron fire-tool lying on the deck, and finally at the sign taped to the front window. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket.
“Who is the owner of record for this property, sir?” Vance asked, his voice calm and entirely professional.
“It’s a family house,” my mother broke in, her voice shrill as she pushed past my father. “Our son Noah handles the maintenance, but we’ve been coming here for ten years. It’s our vacation week. We have children here, Officer! Look at them! They’re sweating!”
Julian’s twins were currently throwing gravel at the marsh birds, entirely unbothered by the heat, but my mother pointed at them as if they were refugees from a drought zone.
Officer Vance didn't look at the twins. He walked up the front steps, adjusted his glasses, and read the sign I had left. Then, he looked up at the small black dome of the Ring camera mounted directly above the frame.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his radio, and called the station dispatch.
“Dispatch, this is Unit 2. I’m at the Lawson property on 1412 Coastal Lane. I have a group of individuals on site claiming family access, but the front door has a formal trespass warning listed under the name Khloe Lawson-Bennett. Can you verify the current deed holder and check if there are any active security notes for this address?”
The radio static crackled for a few long seconds. The thirteen members of my family stood perfectly still, their eyes fixed on the small black box in the officer’s hand. Julian was leaning against his truck, his arms crossed, a smug smile on his face. He still believed that the magic word 'family' would override any legal boundary.
The dispatch voice came back, clear and loud enough for the camera’s microphone to catch every word.
“Unit 2, current deed holder for 1412 Coastal Lane is listed as Khloe Lawson-Bennett, single owner. We have an active log entry filed at 0900 hours today by her husband, Noah Bennett. The note states that the property is under strict medical lockdown and no unauthorized individuals are permitted on site. The owner has explicitly requested that anyone attempting to force entry be removed from the property and processed for criminal trespass.”
The smile vanished from Julian’s face so quickly it looked like it had been slapped off.
Officer Vance turned around, his hand moving down to the snap of his holster. His partner, an older officer who had just got out of the second car, walked up the driveway, his eyes tracking Julian and my father.
“All right, folks,” Officer Vance said, his voice dropping into that low, flat tone that means the conversation is no longer optional. “The owner of this house says you don't belong here. You have five minutes to get these vehicles out of the driveway and off this road, or we are going to start hooking them up to the town tow trucks for blocking a public right-of-way.”
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My father stepped forward, his face turning an even darker shade of purple. “Do you know who I am? I’ve contributed to the coast guard foundation in this town for eight years! My son doesn't own this house—his wife does! And she doesn't have the right to exclude my family from a property we’ve spent thousands of dollars maintaining!”
“Sir,” Officer Vance said, his voice hardening. “If you take one more step toward me, I am going to arrest you for failure to comply with a lawful order. Move your vehicles. Now.”
