Each night since, the small town seemed to whisper secrets only I could hear.
Footsteps echoed where none should be, doors creaked open with no one in sight, and fresh graffiti appeared like a silent message.
It all pointed back to the Thompson place, a mystery that refused to rest.
I knew I needed to bring it up at the meeting with the chief and the town council.
But as the days crept by, doubt gnawed at me.
Would they listen, or would my concerns be buried under bureaucratic indifference?
The feeling that I had stumbled onto something bigger than a simple patrol haunted me still.
With the meeting approaching, the weight of my duty pressed heavily.
I had to decide whether to speak up or remain silent, knowing whatever I found that night wasn’t done with me yet.
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