Caleb 58 - Siblings and Neighbors

"We are not..."

"Gracie?" I shouted through the door. She came and joined me.

"I've asked these two people to leave the property and they are refusing to leave."

"Ma'am," said the woman, "we're from the Department of Housing."

"And do you have a warrant?" asked Gracie.

"No, but we've had a report," said Rafferty.

"And have you been asked to leave the property?" asked Gracie.

"Ma'am you don't..." started the woman.

Gracie pulled out her own credentials. "Special Agent Gracie Jordan, FBI" she said. "Unless you have a warrant, you have been asked to leave the property. If you fail to do so, I will place you under arrest for trespass. Am I clear?"

"But..." said the male housing agent.

Gracie reached behind her and pulled out her cuffs.

They backed off the property.

"We'll be seeking a warrant," the man said. "We'll be back."

They got into their car.

"They will apply for a warrant," said Gracie. I grinned at her.

"I know." I said pulling out my wallet. "Let's see if Judge Roder remembers the favour she owes me."

Rather than call the judge directly, I decided to be a little more circumspect. I called Melissa Wragge.

"Melissa," I said when she answered the call. "I wonder if I might beg a favor?"

"After what you did for my father," she said. "I owe you, anything up to, and possibly including, bearing your first child."

I laughed. "I'll keep that in mind," I said. "I was hoping you might have a quiet word with Judge Roder for me." I explained the situation, from start to finish about the HOA, the blackmail, and his several and various reports to agencies trying to cause trouble. "And now he's got the housing department claiming we're running an illegal hostel, and about to get a warrant to force entry to our property."

"Leave it with me," she said. "Are you around this morning?"

"I am," I said, "Why?"

"Well, the circuit judge that issues the warrants may be amenable to hearing your side of things when they call for the warrant - if you are around?"

"That sounds perfect," I said.

I was just clearing the breakfast things away when my phone rang. Melissa.

"Hi, Caleb." she said. "There's a hearing set for 10am this morning. If you want to quash that warrant, you need to be there. Bring what evidence you can."

Jules missed her first class while downloading various clips from the security system onto my laptop. She wasn't too concerned about it, but she wouldn't want to do it too often.

Melanie came with me to the courthouse.

I went to the main reception and from there was directed to wait outside one of the courts.

Just after ten, we were called into the court. There was a judge, a stenographer, a clerk, and the two people form the housing office.

They looked surprised to see us there.

"Your Honor," said one of the housing office agents, "We are asking for a warrant to enter the premises as listed. We had a report of an illegal hostel, and when we attended the property this morning we were denied entry."

"And I presume you, Mr..." the judge looked at his papers. "Stott. Are the owner of said property?"

"I am your Honor," I said, "and I strenuously object to the invasion of privacy based on what has been a prolonged and targeted campaign of harassment by our neighbor, the latest evidence of which is this report of an illegal hostel."

"Harassment?" he said.

"Yes, your Honor," I said. "I can demonstrate several incidents and I have footage from my home security system as evidence."

"First," the judge said, "was this report made by the neighbor in question?"

"We're not permitted to divulge..."

"Without a court order," interrupted the judge. "So ordered."

"The report was made by a Mr. Pritchard," the female housing officer said. "I believe he lives across the street and so would be ideally placed to notice such an illegal hostel being run."

The judge looked at me. I smiled.

I then told my story. I showed clips of my refusing to join the HOA, the attempt by Tom Pritchard to blackmail me, and the quashing of the HOA by Judge Roder. I also showed his placing illegal no parking signs up on our street at 2am, various visits from the police where our conversations had been recorded, his reporting us to the Department of Housing for working without permits, and even accusing me of vandalizing his car. The judge received the whole story.

I finished by looking across at the housing agents.

"I apologize to you," I said, "for my actions this morning. I am just so sick of being harassed by this man that I'd had enough. As you saw from the footage, I co-operated fully with every other agency each time they came, but this was the final straw."

"Who lives in your house Mr Stott?" asked the judge.

"The house," I said, "is a six bed, five and a half bath, house. We are students. I live there along with my fiancée and her sister, my sister, another pair of sisters, and another two couples who are co-habiting. In total, ten people, all of whom are students studying at PSU with the exception of Gracie Jordan who is an agent with the FBI. She lives there with her girlfriend; they are one of the other couples I mentioned. Oh, my sister isn't a student. We recently found her after she was snatched as a baby from the hospital. She's staying with us too.

"That doesn't sound like overcrowding to me," said the judge to the housing officers. "It's not unusual for students to share housing. And it sounds to me like there are more than enough bedrooms to cope with the number of occupants.

He looked at the housing officers.

"I'm also very concerned about this campaign of harassment," said the judge, "to which you appear to be pandering. Therefore, I'm rejecting your application for a warrant." He banged his gavel.

"Also," he added, "might I ask why you haven't sought a restraining order against Mr. Pritchard?"

"I honestly didn't see the point, your Honor," I said. "I figured that he'd just start reporting anonymously so it wouldn't really make any difference. I was, we were, just trying to live our lives quietly. We get on well with our other neighbours in as much as we interact with them at all. He is the only one who has a problem with us. I am certain that it is all because of his attempts to force us to join his illegal HOA and its subsequent disbanding which, I'll admit, I did have a hand in.

"You know Judge Roder?" he asked.

"Yes, your Honor," I replied. "I am a consultant with the FBI and have had occasion to do some work with her in the past."

He nodded.

"I'm drafting out an interim restraining order," he said. "Any further occasions of harassment, or reports to agencies, will result in charges being brought. He is also to stay one hundred feet from your house. I have no doubt that he will appeal it, but if you can leave me copies of your evidence, when he does, he will have a lot of explaining to do before it is rescinded."

"Thank you, your Honor," I said.

"There will be a service fee for the court to serve the documents to him," he said. I grinned.

"That's no problem," I said.

He banged his gavel again. "The clerk will take you to pay the service charge."

The clerk stood and showed us out.

As we made it outside, I once again went to the housing officers.

"I am sorry," I said again. "Like I said, it was just a culmination of a prolonged campaign of harassment."

The woman actually smiled at me. "Thank you," she said. "We are doing what we can to make sure people are safe and illegal hostels can be death traps. I understand your frustration though and, after seeing what that guy has been doing to you, I can see why you got mad. I think I would have too.

"I'm going to put a note on our system that if we get any calls, named or anonymous, about your address, we will treat them as malicious calls. We can't legally completely ignore them, but we'll treat them with a much higher degree of scepticism."

"Thanks," I said. "Maybe next time drop by for coffee?"

They both smiled at that.

The clerk who had been waiting patiently took us to a payment counter where I handed over my card and paid the service fee for the restraining order. I wondered what would happen when he received it. I had some idea though.

"This will be served sometime tomorrow," said the payment clerk.

"Thank you," I said.

I left with a copy of the restraining order, grinning like a maniac.

When I got home. Tom Pritchard was standing on my porch with a couple of police officers.

"There he is," he yelled at the police. "Arrest him!!"

I sighed and opened my front door. Melanie went inside. I invited the officers in.

"Mr. Pritchard," I said, "please get off my property. You are trespassing. Now please leave."

"I'm going nowhere until..."

I closed the door in his face.

"How can I help?" I asked the officers.

"Mr. Pritchard says you vandalized his car," one said. "He says that you pulled out all his tire valves, for what is now the sixth time, and then removed his oil drain plug causing all of his engine oil to drain out onto his driveway."

I nodded.

"And what proof has he of this?" I asked. "Did he see me do this, has he evidence, video, witnesses, anything at all?"

"He says he saw you."

"He saw me?" I said. "At what time did he see me do this?"

"He said that he was looking out of his window at four thirty this morning and witnessed you vandalizing his car."

"Four thirty?" I asked.

He nodded.

I beckoned them into the living room.

"As you saw," I said, "I have a security system on my house. There are cameras front and rear. Let's look at the footage from this morning, shall we?"

I pulled up that morning's footage. At four am I went out onto the deck and began training. I didn't leave the deck until seven thirty when I went inside, for a shower.

"You can clearly see," I said, "that he is lying. I was out on my deck from four until seven thirty. You can also see that nobody else left the house in that time, you can't get out from the back, and even if you climbed the fence, you'd be seen by the security cameras. Nobody left the front of the house either.

"If you check your dispatch, you will see at least two other malicious calls made by Mr. Pritchard against me, and I have here a restraining order issued just this morning against him for a prolonged and malicious campaign of harassment which he has perpetrated on me ever since I got his HOA disbanded. He has not yet been served, so doesn't know about this yet."

One of the officers took the paperwork from me and looked it over.

He shook his head,

"This guy is obviously unhinged," he said. He looked out of the window and saw Pritchard standing on my porch. "I clearly heard you to tell him to leave and tell him he was trespassing. He hasn't left."

He grinned at his partner.

"Thank you for your time," he said. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you. We'll log it again and also get dispatch to log the restraining order."

He turned and opened the front door.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back," he said to Pritchard. "You're under arrest for criminal trespass and filing a false police report."

"What?" said Pritchard. "You can't...No...No Stop...Get off. Help..."

It was only when they tased him that he stopped struggling and they were able to put the cuffs on him, load him into the back of their car, and take him away.

By that time several of the neighbours had come out to see what the disturbance was about. I looked across at Alan who was standing on his porch crying with laughter. Then my other neighbour John Gregson, the dour guy from the other side walked past the front of our property.

"Morning neighbor," he said with a huge grin on his face. "Lovely day!!!"

I laughed. "Morning to you too," I said.

We went inside and caught up with Marcia who was sanding the floor in the middle room. I made coffee which she gratefully accepted. She looked tired.

"Are you okay," I said.

She smiled wearily at me. "Yeah," she said. "It's tax season, and I'm struggling with my books. I need an accountant, but I just can't afford one."

I thought about that for a few minutes. There were two solutions that sprang immediately to mind. I'd have to speak to Gracie later.

"So, what are we doing this afternoon?" asked Melanie.

"School work," I said. "You're going to get high school math boxed off."

We'd spent time doing other subjects and I was confident that, in another few days, Melanie would be able to get her GED. I'd have to look into her taking the exam. I also checked her over physically. She had filled out nicely and her body was well on its way to recovering. I figured that I would probably remove her amulet sometime this coming weekend. I didn't tell her because I didn't want to get her too excited, but I was excited for her.

I got out my laptop to start showing her some math problems. I'd already given her the knowledge, but it was always good for her to see it in action. I, however, became distracted when I saw that I had answers to both my emails to John's other children. A shiver ran down my spine and, for a moment, I didn't want to open them.

"Melanie," I said. "Look."

She looked at my laptop, unsure at first what she was looking at.

"I got replies from Ephraim and Sarah," I said. Her eyes widened with excitement.

"Who first?" I asked.

She looked at me. "Sarah," she said. "She sounds friendlier. Ephraim sounds like a scary person."

I smiled at her. It was only a name, but I had to agree.

I opened the email from Sarah.

Hi,

My dad, (Brian not John), said I should reach out to you. He thinks it's a good idea for us to meet, although I don't really have a lot to do with John. He pays for stuff, and likes me to call him Dad when he does see me, which is maybe two or three times a year.

I don't mean to be mean, but I have a brother and a family, and they love me, and I love them. I don't want to make them feel that I am trying to replace them. My dad (Brian) has been the only dad I really knew - and he's been great, and I love him loads.

Dad says if you want to come over on Saturday, if you're able, we can maybe talk and see what happens?

Let me know.

Sarah.

I looked at Melanie.

"She sounds uncertain," she said.

"It's not surprising I suppose," I said. "She has a family, who it seems that she's been loved by. She doesn't want to upset them by bringing people who they might resent into her life. They sound like norms though, and she might need some powered guidance when her amulet is removed.

"What about Ephraim." Asked Melanie.

I opened his email.

Caleb.

Sure - I'm at a party Saturday though - so it will need to be Sunday. I stay in the student dorms at PCC. Could meet in the campus cafeteria maybe mid-afternoon Sunday? 2pm?

E.

I sent emails to both, confirming with 'E' that we'd meet him in the PCC cafeteria at 2pm on Sunday, and to Sarah asking her a time and address to meet her. I was a little shocked that I had been that close, physically, to my half-brother and never knew it.

That done, we settled down to do some schoolwork until the rest of the girls came home.

That evening I chatted with Gracie about Marcia and her tax problem. Gracie said that, while she'd be happy to help, probably the best solution would be to give Marcia the knowledge for herself. That way, she'd be able to do her finances much easier and not have to rely on anyone else. I agreed and suggested that to Marcia. She stayed over once more, and by the morning, had the knowledge she needed to manage her own finances.

Since I had the information in my head too, I decided to hold onto it. Now I wouldn't need to bother Gracie either.

By Friday night all the rooms were finished. The final part of the refurbishment would be fitting the bathrooms themselves. Marcia was confident that she could do that in the week she had left. Like she'd said before, the tiling would be the most time consuming. We thought about moving the furniture back into the bedrooms but decided to leave it until the job was completely finished. It would be a job for the following weekend.

Jules, however, was completely ecstatic to have her workshop back. She was happily tinkering in there even as the rest of us were watching television and talking, having decided not to go out that particular Friday. It had been a wearing week and we were all content to stay in and revel in each other's company. Or in Jules' case, tinker. I believed she was working on the game she bought in Paris after she had waited for some parts to arrive.

On Saturday morning, Melanie and I set out on the hour-long drive to Sarah's house. We'd been invited to lunch and planned to get there around midday. There had been a huge debate with the girls as to whether we should ask if they could come too but, in the end, it was decided that it would be just Melanie and me for the first meeting. Perhaps, at some point in the future, we could invite Sarah and her folks over to meet the rest of our family. We'd have to play that by ear.

We arrived at the address we'd been given at about ten minutes to noon. We looked at the house. It was a moderate sized house, maybe three or four bedroom, over two floors. There were two cars in the driveway. I pulled up to the side of the drive, making sure not to block anyone's access, and we got out of the truck. I saw the curtain in the house move. Someone was watching us from inside. I pretended not to notice.

I played the gentleman and opened Melanie's door and helped her down as the truck was quite high. We walked together to the front door and rang the bell.

It took a moment before it was answered. A large man, maybe six foot three, stood there. He was broad but not fat, built not unlike Dean. He, too, looked military. He looked me up and down.

"Caleb?" he said.

"Yes, Sir," I said, "and this is Melanie."

He extended a hand which I shook. His handshake was firm but not brutal.

"I'm Brian. Happy to meet you," he said. His voice was neutral. "Please come in."

We followed him into a living room where there was a sofa and three chairs. One of the chairs was occupied by a young girl whom I took to be Sarah.

She stood nervously as we entered.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Sarah."

"Caleb," I said holding out my hand. She took it and shook.

She turned to Melanie.

"A month ago," said Melanie, before Sarah could say anything, "I was living on the streets. I'd been there since I was less than ten years old. I had nobody, nothing. Then Caleb, my brother, found me. He took me in, shown me love, and helped me like nobody else ever did.

"Now I find that I also have a sister. I understand if, after today, you don't want anything to do with us. I know we make things complicated for you and John, our father, is about as much a dad to you as he has been to either of us. But, even if it's just once, please, do you think I could have a hug from my baby sister?"

Sarah looked at her, tears in her eyes, and then nodded. Stepping forward to be enveloped in her big sisters' arms. Melanie held her for a few moments, tears running down both their faces, and then she released her.

"Thank you," she said.

"Please," said Brian, "have a seat."

We sat on the couch, and Sarah and Brian each took one of the other chairs.

A few moments later a small woman came in carrying a tray of coffees.

She smiled at us. "I'm Carrie," she said. "Sarah's Mom."

"Pleased to meet you," we said almost in unison.

Coffees were handed out, and then for a moment we sat in awkward silence.

In the end it was me that broke it.

"I only found out," I said, "that John was my father a few weeks ago. Before that I thought that my dad was Nathan. No that's not true my dad IS Nathan Stott. He's the man that brought me up, taught me everything I knew about the world, and taught me how to be the person I am today. I completely understand what you said in your email. John may have been our sire, but he's certainly not my dad, and it looks like your dad is sitting right there."