1. One night, my kids are asleep and my husband is out.
  2. I am upstairs in my bedroom, putting some laundry away. The sheer curtains are drawn closed, but the windows are open. The wind is blowing and the drapes are dancing like ghosts.
  3. The phone rings. A blocked number. I pick it up. "Hello?"
  4. A voice at the other end of the line whispers, "Caaaaaisssssssieeeeee...look out your bedroom windooooowwww..."
  5. My legs turn to jelly. He knows my name. He knows I am in my bedroom. Should I do what he says? Should I hang up and call 911? Should I run to make sure my kids are okay?
  6. With tears in my eyes, I edge my way to the window to peel back the curtain and look out into the darkness.
  7. There, in the driveway, I see him.
  8. My neighbor. Jerry.
  9. He sees me looking and waves. "There were a bunch of deer eating crab apples in your driveway and I thought you'd want to see them, but they ran away." He shrugs.
  10. I say, "Maybe you shouldn't call women up at night using a whispery voice in their driveway without identifying yourself, Jerry!"
  11. Jerry says, "HAHA! Good point!"
  12. We hang up and it takes me an hour to stop shaking.
  13. To this day, I am still not convinced that Jerry is NOT a murderer. He has never killed me or my family, but when he is walking up our street, he always waves to us through our front picture window instead of pretending he's not looking into our house. I dunno, seems like a huge breach of a social contract that a murderer might not be aware of.