It was just past midnight when I heard slow, deliberate footsteps outside my living room window.
I froze, my heart racing. Living alone in my late father’s house had never made me uneasy before, but something about the sound felt different—unsettling. I quietly called for help, and within minutes, flashing lights lit up the yard. A tall officer stepped out and approached the porch. His voice was calm, his expression unreadable.
“I’m Officer Grayson,” he said. “Can you tell me what you heard?”