“Can’t you look through any red-light cameras around the area?” Eric asked. He crossed his arms against his chest, the colorful sleeve tattoo on his left arm appearing to swirl.

“We’ll look into it.”

“It was a yes-or-no question.”

“And I gave you an answer.”

Tension thick as an ancient oak tree sprung up between the two men. Tristan sensed it and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Eric shook his head and walked back up into Noah’s house, saying something under his breath. Tristan followed close behind, walking past a worried Yvette, who was perched on the threshold with a glass of water held high in both hands. Noah seemed tired. He nodded to the officer and thanked him, the words sounding hollow as they came out of his mouth.

The cops got inside their cruiser and sped off, leaving us alone with a still-frightened-looking Mason and Robby. At least Mason had one hand in the pockets of his khaki shorts, still holding the cake in his other hand. I’d been scared that he was about to break one of his own ribs with how tight he was clutching himself.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Noah said, directing the apology to the three of us.

“None of this is your fault, Noah.” Robby put out a reassuring hand, grabbing Noah’s in his and squeezing. He smiled, nodded. At least he got along with his neighbors. If it were mine, they would have taken pictures and reported the bloody threat to the HOA president before they would have told me, likely hoping there was a clause in the rulebook somewhere about chicken heads and evictions.

“You know, if you don’t want to stay alone in your place, you’re more than welcome to sleep over in mine. The guest room is currently a mess, but I’ve got a real comfortable couch.”

“Thanks, Robby, but I’ve been fighting some bad knots in my neck all week. If I sleep on a couch, I may not end up getting back up.”

“Oh, no worries. Just thought I’d offer.”

“Thank you, though.” Noah opened his arms and took Robby into a warm hug. Robby told him to call if he needed absolutely anything and then turned to hurry back up his steps, the door closing and the lock loudly clicking shut. Mason dipped his head, shaking it and holding out the aluminum foil covered plate.

“I doubt you’re still in the mood for a slice of lemon bundt cake, or maybe it’s exactly what you’re in the mood for.”

Noah took the plate and offered a thin smile. “You know I can never turn down your baking, Mason. Thank you.”

“Of course. If you need anything, you know where I live. Just knock on the door or send me a text.”