It was just past midnight when I heard slow, deliberate footsteps outside my living room window.
I froze, my heart racing. Living alone in my late father’s house had never made me uneasy before, but something about the sound felt different—unsettling. I quietly called for help, and within minutes, flashing lights lit up the yard. A tall officer stepped out and approached the porch. His voice was calm, his expression unreadable.
“I’m Officer Grayson,” he said. “Can you tell me what you heard?”
I described the sound, and as I did, something in his face shifted. He asked my name again. When I answered, he paused.
“This house… your father—was he Robert Durney?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised. “Did you know him?”
Officer Grayson took a breath. “He saved my life.”
Those five words changed everything. My father had been gone for years, but to hear someone speak of him with such gratitude—it took me off guard.
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