there was a big-biceped beardo pacing in our driveway. I ducked down under the window to avoid him seeing me. My heart started to speed up. He once again approached the porch and banged on the door, but this time he also started peering into our front windows. I sat frozen, crouched under the window, as he stared through the one right above me. “Hunter!” he screamed. I felt relief hearing him yell out Hunter’s name. At least now I knew it wasn’t those bike guys coming back for me.
