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A hurried scribble on a delivery bag sent me racing to my backyard, leading to a disturbing discovery that might have saved my family from something terrifying. The cryptic note from Ravi, our regular delivery guy, hinted at a danger that was still looming, a threat I couldn’t ignore.
As a single mom, I often rely on food delivery when I’m too exhausted to cook for my kids. Over time, Ravi became more than just a familiar face; he was a friend who shared high-fives with my children, Kai and Isla, before heading off. But last Tuesday, something felt off. Ravi arrived looking unusually tense. He handed me our food without a word and hurried back to his car, leaving me puzzled.
“What’s wrong with Ravi?” Kai asked, peering out the window.
“I don’t know, buddy. Maybe he’s in a rush,” I replied, watching his car disappear down the street.
As I set the food on the kitchen counter, still wondering about Ravi’s strange behavior, I noticed something scribbled on the back of the delivery bag. The shaky handwriting caught my attention immediately, and when I read the message, dinner was the last thing on my mind.
“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN.”
My heart raced as I tried to remain calm for my kids. “Why don’t you two wash up while I get everything ready?” I suggested, sending them out of the kitchen. Once they were gone, I dashed to the backyard, Ravi’s message echoing in my mind. I approached the trash cans, my hands trembling as I lifted the lid of the first one. Nothing out of the ordinary, just our usual garbage. But when I opened the second can, I froze. Inside, wrapped in an old blanket, was a collection of gloves, a few small tools, and an unlabeled bottle filled with a mysterious liquid. Panic surged through me.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Isla’s voice startled me. I quickly shut the lid and turned to her with a forced smile.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Just checking something. Go on inside, I’ll be right there.”
As soon as Isla was out of sight, I called the sheriff’s office.
A hurried scribble on a delivery bag sent me racing to my backyard, leading to a disturbing discovery that might have saved my family from something terrifying. The cryptic note from Ravi, our regular delivery guy, hinted at a danger that was still looming, a threat I couldn’t ignore.
As a single mom, I often rely on food delivery when I’m too exhausted to cook for my kids. Over time, Ravi became more than just a familiar face; he was a friend who shared high-fives with my children, Kai and Isla, before heading off. But last Tuesday, something felt off. Ravi arrived looking unusually tense. He handed me our food without a word and hurried back to his car, leaving me puzzled.
“What’s wrong with Ravi?” Kai asked, peering out the window.
“I don’t know, buddy. Maybe he’s in a rush,” I replied, watching his car disappear down the street.
As I set the food on the kitchen counter, still wondering about Ravi’s strange behavior, I noticed something scribbled on the back of the delivery bag. The shaky handwriting caught my attention immediately, and when I read the message, dinner was the last thing on my mind.
“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN.”
My heart raced as I tried to remain calm for my kids. “Why don’t you two wash up while I get everything ready?” I suggested, sending them out of the kitchen. Once they were gone, I dashed to the backyard, Ravi’s message echoing in my mind. I approached the trash cans, my hands trembling as I lifted the lid of the first one. Nothing out of the ordinary, just our usual garbage. But when I opened the second can, I froze. Inside, wrapped in an old blanket, was a collection of gloves, a few small tools, and an unlabeled bottle filled with a mysterious liquid. Panic surged through me.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Isla’s voice startled me. I quickly shut the lid and turned to her with a forced smile.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Just checking something. Go on inside, I’ll be right there.”
As soon as Isla was out of sight, I called the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff’s Department, this is Leona speaking.”
“Leona, it’s Nora. I need you to come over immediately. I found something disturbing in my trash.”
Leona’s voice turned serious as I described the contents of the can. “Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way. Stay inside with the kids until I get there.”
After hanging up, I couldn’t shake the fear. Our neighborhood had recently experienced a series of break-ins with eerily similar methods—chemicals to weaken locks and meticulous clean-up of evidence. A chilling thought crossed my mind: my house was next on the list.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Kai asked, noticing my unease.
“Everything’s fine,” I reassured him, though my smile felt forced. “Let’s have dinner.”
Just as we started eating, there was a knock on the door. I tensed, but relief washed over me when I saw Leona through the peephole.
“Kids, stay here and finish dinner,” I said before stepping outside to speak with her. I explained everything to Leona—Ravi’s note, his strange behavior, and what I found in the trash. She listened carefully, her eyes scanning the street.
“You did the right thing by calling me,” she said. “I’ll take a look at what you found and get it analyzed. In the meantime, I strongly recommend you increase your security. We’ll patrol the area all night.”
That night, sleep was impossible. I spent hours researching security systems, jumping at every little sound. By morning, I was jittery from lack of sleep and too much caffeine. At 8 a.m. sharp, I called a security company.
“I need cameras installed around my house. Today.”
“Ma’am, our earliest slot is next week—”
“No,” I interrupted, my voice breaking. “Someone’s planning to break into my home. I need those cameras now.”
The urgency in my tone must have struck a chord because the receptionist softened her voice. “Let me see what I can do. Can you hold for a moment?” After what felt like an eternity, she returned with good news. “We had a cancellation. Our team can be there in two hours.”
The security team arrived, and I paced the house as they installed cameras. Every passing car, every dog walker suddenly seemed suspicious. Just as they were finishing, Leona pulled into my driveway, her expression grim.
“Nora, we need to talk inside,” she said. I sent the kids to their rooms before sitting down with her.
“The lab results are in,” she said. “That liquid you found? It’s a powerful corrosive, often used to weaken locks.”
My heart sank. “So, it’s true. They were planning to break in.”
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