😨 CHAPTER 8 — THE STRANGER WHO KNEW OUR HOUSE TOO WELL
The discovery dominated national news.
Retired detectives reopened dozens of forgotten investigations.
Victims from different states began contacting authorities.
Then...
One evening, someone parked across the street from our house.
A black sedan.
The driver never got out.
He simply watched.
For hours.
The next day...
The same car returned.
Then the next.
Rada noticed before anyone else.
She stood at the front window without barking.
Just watching.
Every time the sedan appeared...
Her ears went up.
Her eyes never blinked.
Detective Collins advised us to install security cameras.
"We don't know who's interested in the investigation," he admitted.
"It could be journalists..."
"...or someone who doesn't want old secrets uncovered."
Three nights later, one of the cameras recorded movement in our backyard.
At 2:14 a.m.
A hooded figure quietly climbed over the fence.
Before he reached the maple tree...
Rada exploded into action.
She charged across the yard with incredible speed.
The intruder panicked and ran.
Within seconds he disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind only a backpack.
Police recovered it the next morning.
Inside they found gloves.
A shovel.
Bolt cutters.
And copies of newspaper articles about Margaret's case.
Detective Collins frowned.
"He wasn't stealing."
"He was looking for something."
"But everything important had already been found."
Or...
At least we thought so.
Because hidden inside the backpack was a faded photograph of our house.
Taken almost forty years earlier.
Standing on the front porch beside Margaret...
Was a young man no one recognized.
Except Thomas.
He immediately turned pale.
"I know him."
Everyone stared.
"That's my father's younger brother."
"The man everyone believed died in a car accident."
Detective Collins slowly lowered the photograph.
May you like
"What if..."
"...he never died at all?"
