“Karen Henderson,” Marcus said, and the name came out like grit. “She’s been a pain for three years. Yesterday she crossed a line.”
He pulled out his phone and showed Jimmy photos he’d taken over the last two years—photos he’d never used because he’d tried to keep peace while Sophia still lived here.
“Look at the fence line,” Marcus said.
Jimmy studied the image, his weathered face creasing into a frown.
“Son of a—” he muttered. “She’s got at least eighteen inches of her fence on your property. Maybe more.”
“That’s what I thought,” Marcus said.
He swiped to another photo.
“And here’s the kicker. Look at her deck.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened.
The deck extended past the side of Karen’s house—an overhang that pushed closer to the property line than it should.
