I had trusted Dorothy since childhood, so when a young stranger began visiting her every day, I tried not to interfere. But then she stopped answering calls, handed him a key, and vanished from view. The sound I heard beneath her house changed everything.
My name is Greta, and I am 30 years old. I live in a quiet neighborhood on the edge of town, where the streets become empty soon after sunset, and most people know the names of everyone within three houses of their own.
It was the kind of place where nothing dramatic ever seemed to happen.
