My Little Neighbor Didn’t Let Anyone Into His Home Until a Police Officer Arrived and Stepped Inside

I jumped.

Murray stiffened.

“What was that?” he asked.

“The house is old,” Jack said quickly. “It does that.”

“Jack,” Murray said, calm but firmer now, “step back, please.”

Jack’s jaw tightened.

But he moved.

We walked inside.

The place felt wrong.

There was one ancient couch. A wobbly table.

A couple of boxes. No pictures. No lamps.

No sign of grown-up life.

“Police!” Murray called. “Anyone home?”

The kitchen sink was full of dishes. Trash overflowing.

A pot on the stove with something burned solid in it.

He checked the short hallway.

Continue reading…