Karen and I had to cut our beach vacation short after she got hit with a terrible stomach bug. When we got back home, all I wanted was to crash on the couch, but I figured I should check the yard before heading inside.
That’s when I saw it—a massive hole right in the middle of our lawn.
“What is that?” I murmured as I cautiously approached the edge.
At the bottom, there was a shovel, a water bottle, and a few other random items. My first instinct was to call the police, but then a crazy thought crossed my mind: What if the person digging knew we were out of town and was planning to come back?
I turned to Karen, who looked a little pale. “Hey, let’s park the car in the garage. We’ll make it look like we’re still gone.”
She nodded weakly. “Whatever you say, Frank. I’m going to lie down.”
That night, I camped out by the window, keeping an eye on the yard. Hours passed, and I was about to give up when I saw a shadow leap over the fence.
My heart raced as the figure silently moved toward the hole and dropped in. This was my chance.
I snuck outside, phone in hand, ready to dial 911. As I got closer to the hole, I heard grunting and the sound of metal hitting dirt.
