“There are tire marks here,” he said.
Officer Gerald joined him.
“Small excavator, maybe.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Can you please tell me why you’re here? Someone reported him digging. Fine. But why did you say I knew why you came?”
Officer Gerald looked embarrassed for the first time.
“That was poor wording.”
“Very poor wording.”
“You’re right.”
He paused before continuing.
“The person who called said a large metal container was removed from your yard early this morning.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
“A metal container?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know anything was buried there.”
“We believe you.”
“Do you?”
Officer Beckett closed his notebook.
“At this stage, we believe Mark used you to gain access to whatever was underground.”
The words settled slowly.
Used you.
That part I understood.
Mark had not chosen my yard because it was larger. He had not cared about a birthday party. He had known I would be gone.
He had planned around my kindness.
“I want to know what was in the container,” I said.
Officer Gerald’s expression tightened.
“So do we.”
The officers stayed for almost two hours. They took photographs, measured the hole, and asked me the same questions in different ways.
Had Mark ever entered my backyard before?
Had I noticed him watching the property?
Had I seen anyone else near my house?
Did the previous owner ever mention something buried there?
My answers were useless.
I bought the house four years earlier from an elderly man named Walter. He had moved into assisted living soon after the sale. We had never spoken about anything beneath the lawn.
Before leaving, Officer Gerald warned me not to touch the dirt or enter the hole.
“Someone from our department will return in the morning,” he said.
“What about Mark?”
“We are trying to locate him.”
“Is he dangerous?”
Officer Gerald hesitated.
“We don’t know.”
That answer kept me awake all night.
Every sound made me sit up. Pipes clicked inside the walls. A branch scraped the kitchen window. A car slowed near the house around 2 a.m., and I watched from behind the curtain until it drove away.
I kept thinking about Mark standing on my porch.
He had smiled.
He had thanked me.
He had promised everything would be clean.
By morning, I was exhausted and furious.
The police returned with a detective named Priya. She was in her 40s and spoke to me with more warmth than the officers had.
