When Jack and I moved into a small rental on Maple Ridge Drive, it felt like a calm pause from our demanding work lives. The street was quiet and orderly, filled with trimmed lawns and identical mailboxes, the kind of place where neighbors waved politely and evenings settled early. Our stay was temporary, just four months for a shared assignment, so we unpacked lightly. On our second night, while still settling in, a sharp knock interrupted us. A woman named Lindsey stood outside holding a tray of perfectly arranged cookies, smiling brightly while her eyes roamed through our living room....
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