“Any contact goes through counsel.”
Her mouth tightened.
For a second, the mask slipped. Not guilt. Irritation.
Then it returned. “I just want to explain.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
I closed the window.
Then I called the non-emergency police line.
I gave my name, address, and explained that I had a temporary exclusive-use order, that the other party was attempting contact, and that I wanted the incident documented. I did not cry. I did not say mistress. I did not say cheating. I used the language Maya told me to use.
Restrained contact.
Temporary order.
Attempting entry.
Documentation.
A patrol car arrived fifteen minutes later.
The officer was younger than I expected, maybe late twenties, with reddish hair and a cautious expression. He spoke to Caleb on the porch while I watched from inside. Caleb gestured dramatically. The officer read the printed order through the glass after I held it up, then asked me through the door if I wanted to speak outside. I said no, I was comfortable providing the order from inside and would follow up through counsel.
The officer nodded.
Ink worked on him better than tears would have.