She sees the squad car first, then she sees her sons standing on their own lawn, hands visible, a police officer ten feet away. She sees Patricia Brennan on the sidewalk, smiling.
Tanya's foot hits the brake. The car jerks to a stop in her driveway. Tanya steps out of her car. She doesn't run, doesn't shout. She walks across her lawn with the same calm she uses in county board meetings, but her heart is hammering.
"Officer?" Her voice is steady, professional. "Is there a problem?"
Hayes turns, looks at her. "Ma'am, do you live here?"
"I do. This is my home. These are my sons. What's the issue?"
"We received a call about suspicious activity involving—"
Hayes stops mid-sentence. His face changes. "Wait... are you County Administrator Davis?"
"I am."
The air shifts. Hayes straightens. His hand moves away from his belt. "Ma'am, we were responding to a report. Someone called about possible theft."
"Theft?" Tanya looks at her sons, looks at the Christmas lights in their hands, looks back at Hayes. "My 10-year-old sons decorating our front yard for Christmas is theft?"
"The caller reported—"
"Who called?"
"I can't disclose that information."
Tanya's eyes move past him to Patricia Brennan, still standing on the sidewalk, still watching. The smile is gone now, but she doesn't move, doesn't go back inside.
"I see," Tanya says. "Are my sons being detained?"
"No, ma'am."
"Are they suspected of any crime?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then we're done here."
Hayes gets back in his car, drives away. Patricia finally walks back to her house. She doesn't look at Tanya, doesn't apologize, just closes her door.
Tanya kneels down, puts her hands on her sons' shoulders. "Are you two okay?"
Jordan nods, but his hands shake. Julian just stares at the Christmas lights scattered on the ground.