And then the same man is mentioning something about a house in Long Island.
There’s a name… A name I know?
Wait. What?
I freeze, my fingers shaking a little. That name sounds familiar. Yearwood… Yearwood. Where have I heard this name before?
I check the message again.
‘The Yearwood family hired an appraiser.’
I can’t see the rest of the message. And I can’t get into his phone.
Yearwood…
Isn’t that, uh…?
Yes. Yes, it is.
It’s the family living in a cute red brick house close to my backyard.
Those are my neighbors.
Yes. Yes… Those are my neighbors.
Maybe it’s a coincidence. What business does that man have with their place?
Taking about whether they’re getting an appraiser or not? And how is this Kai’s business?
Are my neighbors selling? I didn’t know that, and I know a lot. Okay, I know everything about the people living in my neighborhood.
Why would they sell? Why wouldn’t they?
It’s a seller’s market, and maybe they want to live in Florida all year round.
And who is this Grayson guy? Is he working for Kai?
My heart pounds faster while I’m wrestling with a foreboding sensation.
I pick up his phone, crack the door open, and peek inside.
He’s still asleep.
Good.
Heart pulsing in my throat, I tiptoe to his side of the bed and place it on the nightstand where it sat before. I move around and head back to the bathroom with my own cell phone in hand.
I close the door, sit on the lid of the toilet and run a search online.
It takes a few moments before the information pops up. It’s my neighbor. It sure is my neighbor.
Huh.
My backyard neighbor, to be exact.
What did the message say?
Yes, something about hiring an appraiser. And the same man, Grayson, also talked about an accounting firm in New Jersey.