She turned without another word and went inside.

When she came back, she was holding a small black box. “This was on the porch just now,” she whispered, like someone might be listening.

Inside was a burner phone and a piece of paper. On it, just three words: “He’s watching us.”

I froze.

“What is this, Mom?”

“I don’t know,” she said too quickly. “Someone’s playing a sick joke.”

But the way her voice shook… I knew she was lying.

Over the next few days, strange things kept happening. Her mail was opened. Her porch camera disappeared. Someone spray-painted an “X” on her garbage can.

She swore she didn’t know anything. But I could see the fear on her face, like she was waiting for something—or someone.

I stayed over one night. Around 2 a.m., I heard her whispering on the phone.

I