“Then call the police if you’re so worried.”
I picked up the phone. Then I put it down. Then I picked it up again.
What would I even say? That my neighbor’s gardening made me nervous? That I saw a shadow?
In the morning, I went outside to grab the paper.
There were muddy footprints leading from her backyard to her side door.
Big boot prints. Definitely not hers.
I knocked on her front door. No answer.
I knocked again.
“Mrs. Harper? It’s just me from next door. I wanted to check if you were okay.”
The curtain in the front window moved. Just a sliver.
“Please go away,” her voice came, muffled through the wood. “Please. You’ll only make it worse.”
“Worse? Mrs. Harper, who’s in there with you?”
“Nobody.”
“Then open the door.”
“Please. I’m begging you.”
I stood there for what felt like an hour. Then I walked back to my house and sat at the kitchen table, staring at my phone.
“Just call them,” Karen said quietly behind me.
“And tell them what? That an old lady asked me to leave her alone?”
“Then don’t call.”
“But what if something happens to her?”
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