Adrenaline surged through me. The occupant wasn’t gone for the day. They had just been here minutes ago.
Or worse—they were watching me right now.
I scrambled up the wooden ladder, tearing my jeans in my haste to get out of that hole. I burst out into the afternoon sun, gasping for air.
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I didn’t even bother closing the hatch. I ran straight to the house, locked every deadbolt, drew the curtains, and dialed 911 with shaking hands.
While I was on the phone with the dispatcher, I peeked through the blinds of the kitchen window toward the backyard.
A figure in a dark hooded sweatshirt was standing over the open hatch, looking directly at the house.
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