The police arrived in less than five minutes.
I heard the sirens first, then saw the flashes of red and blue light painting the walls of my living room. Three cruisers screeched to a halt in front of my house.
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Officers with drawn weapons swarmed the backyard, flashlights cutting through the twilight. They set up a perimeter around the open hatch, shouting commands down into the darkness.
They pulled a man up from the hole, handcuffed and struggling.
An officer knocked on my door to take my statement. He looked pale. “You’re lucky you called us when you did,” he said, glancing back toward the yard where they were stringing up yellow crime scene tape. “He had a lot more than just photos down there.”
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