Chapter 5
That evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows across the Oak Creek lawns. Karen walked purposefully up Mark’s wooden front porch steps, holding the leather portfolio containing the certified plat map. She took a deep breath, composed her features into a neutral expression, and pressed the doorbell. A soft chime echoed from inside the house, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the solid oak door.
When Mark pulled the door open, his expression shifted from casual relaxation to guarded annoyance. He wore the same grey t-shirt from the previous day, his arms once again crossing over his chest as he blocked the doorway. "What do you want, Karen? I thought we agreed to let the sheriff handle the cost of the post."
"I didn't come here to argue about the wooden post, Mark," Karen said, her voice measured and calm. She unzipped the portfolio and slid the certified county document out, holding it up so he could clearly see the official municipal seal and the aged blueprint lines. "I went down to the municipal archives today. I pulled the original nineteen-eighty-four tract surveys before the developer went bankrupt."
Mark didn't look down at the paper; instead, his eyes remained fixed on her face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his dark gaze. "I don't care about old maps, Karen. The current deed is what matters legally."
"The current deed is based on a clerical error from a digital conversion ten years ago," Karen insisted, stepping slightly closer. "Look at the actual survey markers. Your mailbox—and the corner of your extended driveway—sit four feet inside my historic boundary. I have the certified proof right here in black and white."
Mark let out a dry, humorless laugh, uncrossing his arms and resting his hand on the wooden doorframe. "You think this is just about a boundary line, don't you? You think I put that mailbox there out of spite to annoy you when you back your car out."
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Karen frowned, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. "Why else would you place it right on the edge of the turning radius after I asked you not to?"
"Because of what's buried underneath it," Mark said quietly, his voice dropping to a low, serious register that instantly erased all the residual neighborhood anger between them.
