I pressed “Call.”
“Walter’s Lock and Key,” a gruff voice answered.
I swallowed. “Hi. I need every lock on my house changed today.”
There was a pause. “Everything all right, ma’am?”
“No,” I said quietly. “But it will be.”
I ended the call, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
A hard, insistent rap sounded at the door.
“Mara, open this door right now,” Mom shouted. “We have mattresses out here before it gets damp.”
I stayed perfectly still. Let them think I wasn’t home. Let them pound until they were tired.
After a few minutes, the knocking stopped. Then I heard Dad say to Mom, “We’ll try again later. She’ll come around.”
My phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Mrs. Rowan appeared on the screen.
Just checking on you, sweetheart. Are you okay?
I typed back, I’m handling it. Please don’t let them talk to you or say things on my behalf.
Her reply was immediate.
I won’t. But they’ve been asking around the neighborhood all week. They told the UPS guy earlier that they’re moving in. Permanently.
I froze. All week. Permanently.
This wasn’t a spontaneous takeover. They had been preparing. They had surveyed the land, asked questions, spread stories, ensuring it would sprout into something believable before I had a chance to deny it.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was an unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.
“Mara?” A calm voice asked. “This is Deputy Hartman with the Cedar County Sheriff’s Office. I’m returning your call from earlier.”
Relief flooded my chest. “Yes. Thank you for calling back. I need to know what my options are.”