I pulled out my phone and saved the recording.
Then I opened my work laptop and started handling emails.
Since I couldn't go out, I'd work from home.
The one who should be anxious wasn't me.
About half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
The cops showed up.
"Cops! Who called the police?" The moment Mrs. Lawrence spotted them, she slapped on a wounded, victimized expression.
"Officer, thank God you're here! You have to help us! That person in there spread rumors about my son and me online—made our lives a living hell! We just came to talk it out, and he goes and calls the police!"
The lead officer was a square-jawed, middle-aged man with a no-nonsense face.
He took one look at the burly men blocking my doorway and his eyes narrowed. "Talk it out? You brought a whole crew to 'talk it out'? This is harassment."
One of the thugs stepped forward. "Officer, that's not fair. We're just here to mediate a family dispute."
"Right, right. Family dispute," Mrs. Lawrence chimed in, nodding frantically.
The officer wasn't buying it. "Open the door. Let the homeowner out."
Hearing his voice, I finally unlocked the door.