“That’s not normal.”
“No.”
“Call the police.”
“And tell them my neighbor throws away groceries?”
“The pills.”
I hesitated.
There wasn’t actually evidence of a crime.
Just something incredibly strange.
Instead, I decided to pay closer attention.
The next morning was Saturday.
Barbara usually slept in.
Around nine, a white delivery van pulled into her driveway.
It wasn’t Amazon.
It wasn’t UPS.
There were no company logos.
Two men climbed out wearing plain navy shirts.
Neither looked like delivery drivers.
They unloaded six enormous cardboard boxes and wheeled them straight into Barbara’s garage.
Thirty minutes later, they left empty-handed.
That afternoon, Barbara made three separate trips carrying contractor bags to the curb.
Six boxes in.
Three bags out.
Something wasn’t adding up.
I wrote down the van’s license plate.
That night, I searched online.
