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

Four o’clock. Five. Six.

Porch dark.

Curtains unmoved.

By seven, my stomach felt like a clenched fist.

I baked a pie to give my hands something to do. Apple. The one thing I still know how to do without a recipe.

When it cooled, I carried it next door and knocked.

“Jack?” I called.

“It’s Mrs. Doyle. I brought pie.”

Silence.

I knocked again.

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