That morning, after my first cup of coffee—because I am a zombie before I get my caffeine—I open my laptop to look at the listing once more. I'm not sure why, but I feel an overwhelming urge to see the pictures again. The longer I stare at them, the tighter my chest becomes—not from fear, but from recognition. It feels impossible, yet some quiet part of me whispers that I have been waiting for this place. Viewing the photos only strengthens my decision to buy the property. I know people might think I've lost my mind because I haven't seen it in person, but my instincts tell me it's my home. It's strange because I've never been to Sugar Creek, and I live an hour away.
With my mind made up, I quickly call Mick to tell him I want to make an offer on the property. Of course, he is a little stunned that I don't want to look at the place in person. He tries several times to convince me to go see it, but there is no need. This house already feels like a part of me. It calls to me like nothing ever has. He finally gives up when he realizes I'm determined, and we start discussing my financial situation and buying options.
When I disclose that I have enough financial resources from my mother's inheritance and my savings, Mick is confident I will qualify for a first-time home buyer's loan. As a result, I decide to make an official offer on the property with his assistance.
We discover that the house is city-owned because it has been abandoned for twenty-five years. While most similar properties were redeveloped, this one remains on the outskirts and is deemed unused. After numerous meetings and discussions, town officials opt to sell the property to attract new residents. The town sheriff and some supporters push for demolishing the house, but they are outvoted by the remaining council members.
The only reason I might reconsider my decision is the tragic story of the family who lived there before. They went missing without a trace. The town avoids discussing it. Most people believe the father killed his family and buried them in the woods behind the house before fleeing. The case was thoroughly investigated, but it eventually became a cold case. It is a sad discovery, and I feel compassion for the family. How could an entire family simply vanish? Someone knows what happened, but why they stay silent remains a mystery. Maybe it bothers me because I know what it feels like to live with unanswered questions. Maybe that is why I can't look away. I should be scared or worried, but the story makes the house more fascinating. Despite this, I can't shake the feeling that the house is destined for me. It seems as if the house is calling to me, urging me to claim it as my own.
It takes two whole weeks before I hear the news that my bid on the house has been accepted. Those two weeks feel more like an eternity. I constantly look at my phone, willing it to ring. When it doesn't, anxiety becomes a constant companion, filling my bones to the point of exhaustion.
The closing date is at the end of the month, and I decide to keep the information to myself. Once the keys are in my hand, Zeke will be my first call because then the house will officially be mine. Excitement replaces the anxiety, and I feel like I can breathe again. With the house's location, Zeke can stay with me while he helps open the new branch of the construction company.
The night before my meeting to close on the house, I have another dream. This one is just as unsettling as the last. My mom doesn't come to me. Instead, a woman wearing a blue summer dress appears, with long, wavy black hair streaked with gray cascading down her back. Her eyes are the same color as mine. She feels oddly familiar to me, maybe because she resembles my mom and is stunningly beautiful. Despite that, her presence sends goosebumps up and down my arms. The woman turns and motions for me to follow. She leads me into a dining room, stopping beside the table. The room smells like dust and old wood, and the silence presses against my ears until my own breathing sounds too loud. I look around and realize the space feels familiar. The only thing I can think is, "Am I having a déjà vu moment?" Then it hits me: the more I scan the room, the more I realize this is the house I am buying. I focus my attention back on the woman. She tilts her head to the side, and it feels like she is assessing me. Then she smiles, but the expression does not reach her eyes. Goosebumps erupt again, and my body shakes from the fear enveloping me.
"Why are we here? What do you want from me?" My voice betrays me and trembles as I ask the questions. The woman keeps smiling and points at the dining room wall.
"Help us, please," she whispers. The words are soft, but they land like a warning. What throws me off the most is how she keeps smiling and pointing. She repeats the phrase over and over again. The longer this goes on, the more my anxiety and uneasiness escalate, making me wonder if this is another ominous sign of things to come. My panic rises, and it feels like I can't catch my breath. Can you have a panic attack in a dream? I'm not sure, but it sure feels that way. The only thing I can do is clutch my chest and keep reminding myself to take slow, deep breaths. It is only a dream.
I look back at the woman and see that a shadow has appeared beside her, making me jump. I can tell it is a male shadow because of the wide shoulders and stocky build. The air in the room seems to grow colder, and the walls feel as if they are closing in around me. Suddenly, I jolt awake, visibly shaken. I am drenched in sweat, and my heart feels like it is pounding out of my chest. For some reason, this dream scares me to my core.
As I sit there going over the dream in my head, the only conclusion I can reach is that maybe this woman has something to do with the missing Catalano family. Perhaps she is trying to tell me what happened, warn me of danger, or maybe my overactive mind is freaking me out. There are so many unanswered questions that deeply trouble me, but they will not deter me from buying the house. I know they should. Most people would take this as a sign not to go ahead with the closing. For me, it feels like the house has the answers I need. I decide my best course of action is to push past this dream as best as I can and get ready for my meeting.
Upon arriving at Mick's real estate agency for the closing, I am led to a conference room. Because the property is city-owned, three town officials are there to finalize the sale. As I enter the room, I notice them sitting with Mick. Introductions begin right away. The only woman in the group is Suzanne, the clerk of courts, and the two men with her are Robert Dunhill, the mayor, and Howard Dawson, the sheriff. Both Mayor Dunhill and Suzanne express their excitement about meeting me, but Sheriff Dawson freezes when he sees me. For a second, he looks as if he recognizes me—or thinks he does. His face goes pale, and the air between us shifts. A cold prickle runs up my spine, but I force myself to smile warmly at them all and take the empty chair closest to Mick.
The sheriff recovers quickly but keeps his attention fixed on me. I try to ignore him and focus on the meeting. As we go over the paperwork, I notice the distinct differences between the officials. Suzanne is a slender, blond-haired woman in her late fifties with perfectly manicured nails. She clearly takes pride in her appearance. She is friendly and seems genuinely happy that I am buying the property. Mayor Dunhill is a short, robust, balding man with a big, welcoming smile. He reminds me of a big teddy bear. The sheriff, on the other hand, is a stern-looking man in his early sixties, with dark, almost black eyes that scrutinize every move I make. He gives off a don't-mess-with-me vibe. The way he studies me doesn't feel like simple curiosity. It feels personal, and that scares me more than I want to admit. His constant attention makes me uncomfortable, so I turn and look him straight in the eyes. I'm not trying to challenge him, only to get him to back off a bit.
He takes the opportunity to ask, "Excuse me, ma'am, but is your last name Catalano?" The expression on my face must look comical because I'm sure it shows my confusion and shock. Does he think I am connected to the family who vanished? That is absurd. I had never heard of them until Mick told me about the house.
"No, sir. My last name is Sleighton. I don't know anyone with the surname Catalano," I reply. The look on his face tells me he doesn't quite believe what I've said. He continues to stare at me for a few more minutes, then apologizes if I feel he is being rude. I want to tell him I absolutely think he is being creepy and rude, but I just smile and say, "It's fine."
After all the necessary paperwork is signed and the keys are handed over to me, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of excitement. We all exit the meeting room and head to the parking lot. I stay for a minute to thank Mick for all his help, then quickly leave.
As soon as my feet hit the pavement outside the building, the feeling of being watched takes over. As much as I try, I can't shake it, and my instincts are proven right. Standing to the right of the parking lot is the imposing figure of the sheriff, his attention fixed in my direction. I should feel triumphant. Instead, I feel like I've stepped over an invisible line, and everyone but me knows what waits on the other side. He gives me the creeps. He is one of those people who makes you uncomfortable and makes you want to keep your distance, almost as if he could be a threat. Instead of showing my uneasiness or fear, I wave at him to show I'm not afraid. Even though I definitely am, he doesn't need to know that. Shocked, he gives a quick wave of his own and gets into the squad car with the other officials. As they pass me, I wave again, hoping I look braver than I feel.
As soon as I get to my blue Ford Explorer, I call Zeke. Zeke is the first person I want to tell and the last person I want to disappoint. While I wait for him to pick up, I worry he might not agree with my impulsive purchase. My biggest fear is that he will be mad I didn't include him in the house-buying journey. I hope he understands that I needed to do this by myself. As soon as he answers, all my fears leave me.
"Hey, Rocky. I thought you forgot about me today," he says, sounding genuinely hurt that I haven't called him yet. This tugs at my heart because he is family. Zeke and his parents have been a big part of my life. They made up for the family I never had. They welcomed my mom and me into their fold, and we celebrated every holiday, birthday, and special occasion together. Our connection is something I hope we never lose.
"Of course, I could never forget you, Z," I say with a laugh. "You are not only my best friend but also my favorite human." I pause, listening to see if my declaration reassures him.
"Aww, so sweet but too mushy," he says, laughing.
"I have something to tell you. I did something completely spontaneous and out of character. Do you remember the listing in Sugar Creek we talked about?" I ask nervously.
"Yeah, I do. It was the one you thought was perfect. Why?" he asks.
"I bought it. It's mine. I signed the papers today and have the keys." The words spill out of my mouth before I can chicken out.
"You mean you have the keys to go look at it, right?" he asks.
"No, I mean I own it," I repeat.
"What the hell, Rocky?" he says loudly. The sharpness in his voice hits harder than I expect. For a second, the joy I've been carrying all day slips through my fingers. His reaction throws me off. I didn't expect him to jump up and down for joy, but I didn't expect this reaction either.