The day after my son saved a toddler from a burning shed, we found a mysterious note on our doorstep.
It told us to meet a stranger in a red limousine at 5 a.m. near his school.
I almost tossed it aside. But curiosity got the better of me, and we went. I should’ve known that choice would change everything.
It was a crisp autumn afternoon in Willow Creek last Saturday. The air carried hints of spice and bonfire smoke. Our neighborhood was holding a relaxed block party, with parents sipping warm drinks while kids darted around with juice pouches. Everything felt perfect for a moment.
