While my daughter was supposedly away on a trip, I paid a local guy named Tyler to take care of her overgrown lawn. He had been working for less than an hour when my phone rang. “Sir,” he said quietly, “is someone supposed to be inside your daughter’s house?” My grip tightened around the phone. “No. Why?” The mower engine abruptly cut out. For several seconds, Tyler said nothing. Then a weak, quivering sound drifted through the receiver—a muffled cry that seemed to come from far away. “I’ve heard that three times,” he whispered. “It’s coming from inside the house… but not from upstairs. It sounds like it’s coming from underneath it.”
giangtr