Chapter 1 - The Handcuffs in My Driveway
"TIGHTEN THOSE HANDCUFFS, DEPUTY! THAT OLD MAN NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND HE DOESN'T OWN THIS HOUSE ANYMORE!"
"That's my father you're arresting."
"Then you'd better understand something, too. In this neighborhood, I make the rules."
Those were the words that greeted me when I returned home after fourteen months undercover with the FBI.
My name is Gideon Mercer.
For fourteen months, I had lived under a false identity, infiltrating a financial crime organization responsible for stealing millions of dollars from ordinary American families.
I had survived threats, midnight meetings with dangerous criminals, and situations where one wrong answer could have cost me my life.
But nothing prepared me for the sight waiting outside my childhood home.
My sixty-eight-year-old father, Hollis Mercer, stood beside our garage with his hands cuffed behind his back.
His faded flannel shirt was wrinkled. His muddy work pants looked as though he'd been interrupted while gardening.
A county deputy gripped his wrists.
Standing nearby was Marjorie Vance, the president of the Westbridge Estates Homeowners Association.
She wore an expensive cream-colored blazer and the satisfied expression of someone who believed she had already won.
My father wasn't resisting.
That was what hurt the most.
He stood quietly, his shoulders trembling, while the deputy tightened the steel cuffs.
"Please," Dad whispered. "I haven't done anything wrong."
Marjorie smiled.
"You should have considered that before challenging my authority."
I watched from inside the lead vehicle of a federal convoy.
Behind us were six black SUVs, two evidence transport vehicles, and a mobile command unit.
More than twenty FBI agents were waiting for instructions.
My partner, Special Agent Tamson Doyle, placed her hand on my arm.
"Gideon, remember why we're here."
I couldn't stop looking at my father.
Red marks were appearing around his wrists.
"He's hurting him, Tamson."
"I see that."
"Then let me out."
She hesitated.
"We have federal arrest and search warrants. We cannot jeopardize fourteen months of work."
I looked at her.
"That's my father."
Her expression softened.
"I know."
I opened the door.
The autumn air struck my face as I stepped onto the street.
Across our front door, someone had taped a yellow notice.
PROPERTY SEIZED BY HOA.
Another sign warned that trespassers would be prosecuted.
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
My father had purchased that property in 1987.
Westbridge Estates hadn't existed then.
He had built the backyard fence himself, planted the oak tree beside the driveway, and spent nearly forty years making the house a home.
Now a woman with an HOA title was trying to steal it.
Marjorie noticed me approaching.
"Excuse me. This is a private enforcement matter."
I stopped several feet away.
"Why is that man handcuffed?"
"Because he refused to comply with a lawful property seizure."
"Show me the court order."
Her smile disappeared.
"Who do you think you are?"
Before I could answer, my father raised his head.
His eyes widened.
"Gideon?"
I turned toward him.
"Hey, Dad."
His lower lip trembled.
"Son?"
For a moment, neither of us could speak.
Then Marjorie stepped between us.
"Family reunions can wait. Your father owes the association substantial penalties."
I looked past her toward the deputy.
"Remove those handcuffs."
Marjorie gave a sharp laugh.
"You have absolutely no authority here."
I touched the communication device beneath my jacket.
"Tamson. Bring the team forward."
Behind me, the black SUV doors began opening.
One after another.
Federal agents stepped onto the pavement.
Marjorie turned.
Her smile vanished.
"What is this?"
I looked directly into her eyes.
"You've made a very serious mistake, Mrs. Vance."
Before she could respond, Tamson approached carrying a sealed federal warrant packet.
Her expression was grim.
"Gideon, there's something you need to see before we proceed."
She opened the packet to a page bearing my father's name.
May you like
And beside it, in bold capital letters, were three words that made my stomach drop.
SUBJECT OF INVESTIGATION.
