It was a quiet street with well-manicured lawns and white picket fences. Everyone on my block knew each other and greeted each other every morning, but something about the new neighbor always left me feeling uneasy.
I'd see him coming and going, always sneaking around, and never staying long enough to chat. Then one evening, I'd just finished hanging laundry on the line when I heard loud shouts coming from his house. It sounded like someone was in danger.
I rushed over to his front door, knocked five times, but there was no answer. That's when I heard it - a woman's shriek, in the basement of the house. I could see a red light from behind the window, and I knew I had to do something.
I called the police and gave them a tip on the neighbor, that something illegal was going on in his home. But even though they searched the house that night, they found nothing, nothing incriminating.
I knew all along! How could I prove it? I kept my eyes glued to the neighbor's house, always watching for something to present itself.
Days passed, and I realized the search of his basement never penetrated deeply enough, so I made my way over to his window and began a discreet investigation, taking pictures. I identified pictures and strange objects hung on his walls, and in the end, found pictures of a young woman who went missing four years earlier.
I collected all the evidence and handed it over to the authorities. Finally, the neighbor was caught and admitted to the crimes. It was the biggest news story of our town. While it was a terrifying experience, I was grateful that I persisted in the search and was able to make a difference.
In the end, justice was served, and the neighbors lived a little bit safer with a killer off the streets.