# 9 True Domino's Pizza Horror Stories for Sleep That Will Keep You Up at Night!

An episode of [AfterDark Reddits](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1896809423), 19 Oct 2026, 1 h 19 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/74987409/058_9_true_domino_s_pizza_horror_stories_for_sleep_that_will_keep_you_up_at_night.mp3



## Transcript

[0:03] Speaker 1: I used to tell people I was still in uni,
[0:05] Speaker 1: studying business, slogging through late-night assignments. It was easier than
[0:10] Speaker 1: admitting I'd dropped out two semesters ago, drowning in panic
[0:13] Speaker 1: attacks and overdue bills. I kept the lie going because
[0:18] Speaker 1: it was cleaner than the truth, and because my parents
[0:21] Speaker 1: would have disowned me if they knew I'd walked out
[0:23] Speaker 1: of Adelaide Uni with nothing but a stack of debt
[0:25] Speaker 1: and a shattered sense of self-worth. Domino's on Hindley Street
[0:29] Speaker 1: became my refuge. It was supposed to be temporary. A paycheck,
[0:35] Speaker 1: a distraction. But two months turned into six. I'd work
[0:39] Speaker 1: night shifts, box pizzas, handle drunk customers, and pray for
[0:42] Speaker 1: the hours to pass without something stupid happening. Hindley Street
[0:46] Speaker 1: never really sleeps. Even after 1am, there's always someone shouting, laughing,
[0:51] Speaker 1: stumbling past. In heels or sneakers, high or hammered or both.
[0:55] Speaker 1: That night in February, it was humid as hell. I
[0:58] Speaker 1: was in the back of the shop boxing a large
[1:00] Speaker 1: Supreme when I heard it. Three slow knocks on the
[1:03] Speaker 1: back delivery door. Sharp. Measured. Like someone meant it. I
[1:08] Speaker 1: turned to Tara, our shift supervisor, who was counting change
[1:12] Speaker 1: by the register. Did. You hear that? She didn't look up.
[1:19] Speaker 1: Hear what? I paused, walked to the steel door. The
[1:24] Speaker 1: alley out back was empty. Just garbage bins, a cracked
[1:27] Speaker 1: street lamp, and the faint whir of a distant air conditioner. Nothing. Nothing.
[1:33] Speaker 1: No footsteps. No voice, just the faint smell of pizza
[1:36] Speaker 1: dough and bin rot. I shut the door, told myself
[1:40] Speaker 1: I was overtired. But that knocking? It stuck with me.
[1:45] Speaker 1: It was too deliberate. Too slow. Like someone wanted me
[1:49] Speaker 1: to know they were there. And they weren't. In a hurry.
[1:53] Speaker 1: The next night, same shift. I was more alert, halfway
[1:56] Speaker 1: expecting it. That kind of dread you can't explain but
[1:59] Speaker 1: can't ignore either. The store was quieter than usual. Maybe
[2:04] Speaker 1: one or two late night pickups. A few Uber Eats orders.
[2:08] Speaker 1: Tara was restocking sauces. I was folding boxes near the
[2:11] Speaker 1: back door. Then came the sound again. Not a knock
[2:15] Speaker 1: this time, but a fist pounding against the metal. Three times.
[2:19] Speaker 1: Then silence. The whole door vibrated. Tara dropped a bottle
[2:24] Speaker 1: of garlic dip. Jesus. What the hell? Was that? I
[2:30] Speaker 1: didn't answer. I was already at the door. I yanked
[2:33] Speaker 1: it open. Nothing. No footsteps retreating. No voice. No body.
[2:41] Speaker 1: But there, lying at the foot of the door, was
[2:43] Speaker 1: a single domino's glove. The kind we wear for handling orders.
[2:47] Speaker 1: Black latex, slightly crumpled, grease-stained. Tara stared at it. Someone
[2:54] Speaker 1: messing with us? I picked it. Up with two fingers
[2:58] Speaker 1: it was warm. Probably, she said, trying to act casual.
[3:04] Speaker 1: But I saw the unease in her eyes. Don't read
[3:07] Speaker 1: into it. Just kids. Except it wasn't kids. Not with
[3:12] Speaker 1: that kind of timing. Not that kind of glove. Later,
[3:16] Speaker 1: when I went to my car, I found a handful
[3:18] Speaker 1: of small marbles lined up on the hood. Perfectly arranged.
[3:22] Speaker 1: Like someone had taken their time. I didn't say anything
[3:26] Speaker 1: to Tara. I didn't sleep that day either. Every time.
[3:31] Speaker 1: I closed my eyes. I heard that pounding, the glove,
[3:33] Speaker 1: the marbles, the silence. It wasn't just a prank. It
[3:37] Speaker 1: was personal. And somehow I knew it was meant for me.
[3:42] Speaker 1: The next week, it got worse. It started with the
[3:46] Speaker 1: phone call. Around 2 a.m., the store phone rang. Tara
[3:50] Speaker 1: picked it up, then handed it to me. Jake, it's
[3:54] Speaker 1: for you, I think. I frowned. No one ever called
[3:58] Speaker 1: me at work. I pressed the phone to my ear.
[4:01] Speaker 1: For a few seconds, nothing. Then a distorted voice hissed
[4:05] Speaker 1: through the line. You shouldn't have taken my spot, Jake.
[4:09] Speaker 1: I froze. Who is this? Silence. Then, click. Tara gave
[4:17] Speaker 1: me a weird look. Prank? I nodded, lying, but my
[4:22] Speaker 1: hands were shaking. A day later, we found a note
[4:26] Speaker 1: under the back door. written on an old pizza box
[4:29] Speaker 1: top smudged with sauce and oil. I'm always watching, even
[4:34] Speaker 1: when you don't see me. Tara still wouldn't admit something
[4:38] Speaker 1: was off, but I could tell she was starting to
[4:41] Speaker 1: feel it too. She double-checked the locks, asked me to
[4:45] Speaker 1: stop leaving the back door cracked open for air. That night,
[4:49] Speaker 1: I couldn't focus. I botched two orders and forgot a
[4:52] Speaker 1: delivery bag. My head was spinning. Sleep deprivation mixed with
[4:57] Speaker 1: the sense that I was being watched constantly. Was it paranoia?
[5:02] Speaker 1: My therapist used to ask that before I stopped going.
[5:06] Speaker 1: Before I told myself I didn't need help, I knew
[5:09] Speaker 1: who it was. His name was Evan Rigby. He used
[5:12] Speaker 1: to work here before I was hired. Got fired for stealing,
[5:15] Speaker 1: Tara said. Walked out shouting. And the day I started?
[5:19] Speaker 1: He was standing across the street. Watching. It worked. All
[5:24] Speaker 1: broke open the night I took out the trash. It
[5:27] Speaker 1: was almost 2.30 a.m., and the store was dead. One
[5:31] Speaker 1: last order on the oven timer. Tara was doing closing inventory.
[5:35] Speaker 1: I took two black garbage bags and stepped into the
[5:38] Speaker 1: back alley. The air was still, the street lamp flickering
[5:42] Speaker 1: above like a dying firefly. As I reached the dumpster,
[5:45] Speaker 1: something shifted in the shadows. I turned fast. A figure
[5:50] Speaker 1: lunged at me. He grabbed my arm, Bony fingers like
[5:53] Speaker 1: wire cable locking around my elbow. You stole my job.
[5:59] Speaker 1: Now I take something of yours. It was Evan. Wild eyes.
[6:04] Speaker 1: Patchy beard. Smelled like sweat and burnt grease. I yanked
[6:09] Speaker 1: back hard, dropped the garbage bags and ran. My feet
[6:13] Speaker 1: barely touched the ground. I slammed the back door shut
[6:16] Speaker 1: just as his fist smashed into it leaving a dent.
[6:20] Speaker 1: Tara came rushing in. What happened? He was out there,
[6:24] Speaker 1: I panted. Evan, he grabbed me. She locked the door.
[6:28] Speaker 1: Call the cops, now. When the police came, officers Dawson
[6:33] Speaker 1: and Singh, they didn't roll their eyes, didn't treat me
[6:36] Speaker 1: like I was crazy. They found Evan wandering a block away,
[6:40] Speaker 1: muttering about how I stole his future. He had a
[6:44] Speaker 1: domino's hat in his coat pocket. He was arrested for
[6:48] Speaker 1: trespassing and assault, but that didn't erase the fear. That
[6:51] Speaker 1: didn't erase the knocks. I quit Domino's the next day.
[6:56] Speaker 1: Tara understood. She even hugged me, though neither of us
[6:59] Speaker 1: were huggers. You held it together longer than most would,
[7:03] Speaker 1: she said. I left my uniform in the break room,
[7:06] Speaker 1: walked out without looking back. But it followed me home.
[7:11] Speaker 1: Every night I hear things. A tap on the window.
[7:15] Speaker 1: A creak in the hallway. My brain says it's nothing,
[7:18] Speaker 1: but my body reacts like Evan's still out there. I
[7:22] Speaker 1: check my locks three times now. I started therapy again
[7:26] Speaker 1: because the truth is I can't do this alone anymore.
[7:30] Speaker 1: I don't sleep through the night. I keep the lights on.
[7:33] Speaker 1: I flinch at every knock, even if it's just a
[7:36] Speaker 1: delivery guy or the neighbor's kid. Domino's was supposed to
[7:40] Speaker 1: be a stopgap, a way to stay afloat. Instead, it
[7:44] Speaker 1: became a place I'll never forget for all the wrong reasons.
[7:49] Speaker 1: I still don't know how long he was watching me
[7:51] Speaker 1: before that first knock, or how close I came to
[7:54] Speaker 1: something worse. But I do know this. When I hear,
[7:59] Speaker 1: a knock now, I don't ask who it is. I
[8:01] Speaker 1: don't open the door. I run. Sometimes the things we
[8:08] Speaker 1: fear are real, and the only mistake is pretending they're not.
[8:12] Speaker 1: Trust your instincts. Speak up. Don't wait until the knocking
[8:16] Speaker 1: gets louder. I never planned to end up here, 31
[8:24] Speaker 1: years old, living above a laundromat that always smells like
[8:27] Speaker 1: mildew and stale detergent, driving pizzas around Detroit in a
[8:31] Speaker 1: busted Hyundai with no heat and a half-cracked windshield. My
[8:35] Speaker 1: license was technically suspended after I ignored one too many
[8:39] Speaker 1: parking tickets, but Domino's didn't ask and I didn't tell.
[8:43] Speaker 1: As long as I made it back before dawn with
[8:45] Speaker 1: the receipts and my cash counted right, nobody cared. The
[8:50] Speaker 1: Domino's where I work is tucked into A half-dead strip
[8:53] Speaker 1: mall off 8 Mile Road, sandwiched between a liquor store
[8:57] Speaker 1: with bars on the windows and a vape shop that
[8:59] Speaker 1: never seems open. The lots a minefield of potholes and
[9:02] Speaker 1: busted bottles. Half the time my tires scrape gravel just
[9:06] Speaker 1: trying to park straight. I lived in that studio for
[9:10] Speaker 1: about nine months. Rent was cheap and the noise was manageable,
[9:14] Speaker 1: unless someone decided to race a dirt bike down the
[9:17] Speaker 1: alley at 2 a.m. My only neighbor was Lina Petrov.
[9:21] Speaker 1: a quiet nursing student with soft eyes and a sad smile.
[9:25] Speaker 1: She always tipped me in whatever she could, sometimes a
[9:28] Speaker 1: handful of change, sometimes half a cookie in a napkin.
[9:31] Speaker 1: Told me I looked like someone who could use the sugar.
[9:35] Speaker 1: She wasn't wrong. I didn't know her well, but she
[9:38] Speaker 1: felt like the only piece of real kindness in my life.
[9:42] Speaker 1: Everything else, my job, my car, the stack of payday
[9:45] Speaker 1: loans waiting in my glove box, was just noise. But Lena...
[9:50] Speaker 1: She saw me, even if she barely said ten words
[9:54] Speaker 1: at a time. That night, the snow was starting to fall.
[10:00] Speaker 1: again thick sharp flakes my breath fogged the inside of
[10:03] Speaker 1: my windshield as I cranked the defroster that barely worked
[10:07] Speaker 1: that was the last night I saw Lena alive Carl
[10:11] Speaker 1: Jenkins or as we called him behind the counter Creepy
[10:15] Speaker 1: Carl was one of our regulars lived alone in a
[10:20] Speaker 1: basement-level apartment about six blocks east of the store. Ordered
[10:23] Speaker 1: the same thing every time. Large meat lovers, extra cheese,
[10:26] Speaker 1: no garlic crust. Always paid cash. Always overtipped like he
[10:31] Speaker 1: was trying too hard. He gave off a smell like
[10:34] Speaker 1: burnt wires and wet carpet, and he always stared a
[10:37] Speaker 1: beat too long when he read your name tag. David,
[10:40] Speaker 1: he'd say, holding the vowels like gum. You deliver good. Yeah, thanks, Carl.
[10:47] Speaker 1: On that night, the one that won't stop replaying in
[10:50] Speaker 1: my head, I got his usual order ticket at 1.30 a.m. sharp.
[10:54] Speaker 1: I remember because Big Reg, our night manager, handed it
[10:58] Speaker 1: to me with a grunt and muttered, Your buddy ordered again.
[11:02] Speaker 1: Better than him walking in, I joked, but even saying
[11:05] Speaker 1: it made my chest feel tight. I pulled up to
[11:08] Speaker 1: his place and knocked like usual. He answered quicker than expected, shirtless,
[11:12] Speaker 1: breathing heavy, eyes bright like a dog that's been locked
[11:15] Speaker 1: in too long. Got your order, Carl. I said, holding
[11:19] Speaker 1: the box like a shield. You ever delivered a Lena?
[11:23] Speaker 1: He asked, out of nowhere. His breath reeked of whiskey
[11:26] Speaker 1: and rot. I blinked. What? You know, the girl upstairs
[11:33] Speaker 1: from you, she's real quiet, like a mouse, easy to forget.
[11:38] Speaker 1: I stared. I didn't remember telling him where I lived,
[11:42] Speaker 1: or who Lena was. That's when... I noticed the bloody
[11:46] Speaker 1: scratch marks across his knuckles, fresh, raw. I didn't wait
[11:50] Speaker 1: for the tip. I handed him the box and turned fast.
[11:53] Speaker 1: I got back into my car and locked the doors
[11:55] Speaker 1: with shaking fingers. In my rear view, I saw him
[11:59] Speaker 1: standing there, watching, smiling. Back at the store, I tried
[12:06] Speaker 1: to shake it off, told Reggie about Carl's weirdness, but
[12:10] Speaker 1: he just shrugged. That dude's been off for years, he said,
[12:13] Speaker 1: tapping the bat behind the counter. Just watch your six.
[12:17] Speaker 1: By 3 a.m., we were winding down, just a few
[12:20] Speaker 1: slices left in the warmer trash bags full. I took
[12:24] Speaker 1: mine out to the dumpster behind the building like always.
[12:28] Speaker 1: Cold stabbed through my hoodie. The alley smelled like grease
[12:31] Speaker 1: and old beer. That's when I saw him. Carl, standing
[12:36] Speaker 1: by the dumpster, no coat, no shoes, just a filthy
[12:40] Speaker 1: t-shirt clinging to his chest and a knife swinging slow
[12:43] Speaker 1: in one hand. his eyes locked on the back door
[12:46] Speaker 1: like he'd been waiting, not for trash, for me. My
[12:52] Speaker 1: breath caught in my throat. I dropped the bag and ran,
[12:55] Speaker 1: slammed the door behind me so hard the top pane cracked.
[12:59] Speaker 1: Reggie jumped up, bat in hand. The hell's wrong with you?
[13:03] Speaker 1: Carl's out back, I panted. He's got a knife. Reggie
[13:07] Speaker 1: didn't hesitate, locked the door, pulled his phone, called the cops.
[13:13] Speaker 1: By the time they showed, Lights flashing over broken glass
[13:16] Speaker 1: and frozen potholes. Carl was gone. No footprints. No sign.
[13:22] Speaker 1: Like the snow swallowed him whole. The officers took our
[13:26] Speaker 1: statements but didn't seem phased. Jenkins has a history of
[13:30] Speaker 1: mental issues, one muttered. Probably wandered off. But I knew
[13:36] Speaker 1: what I saw. And I knew who he was looking.
[13:39] Speaker 1: Burius the next morning. I hadn't even made it back
[13:41] Speaker 1: home when Detective Vasquez walked through the Domino's front door.
[13:45] Speaker 1: She was in plain clothes, but her eyes were all business.
[13:49] Speaker 1: You David Carter? I nodded, something in my gut twisted.
[13:55] Speaker 1: You know Elena Petrov? My mouth dried. She's my neighbor. Upstairs. Why?
[14:04] Speaker 1: She didn't flinch, didn't soften. We found her in Carl
[14:09] Speaker 1: Jenkins' apartment in the bathtub. Her voice was flat. She
[14:13] Speaker 1: was skinned. Waist down. Based on the time of death,
[14:18] Speaker 1: it likely happened hours before we got your call. I
[14:21] Speaker 1: sat down on a milk crate and stared at the floor.
[14:24] Speaker 1: Hours before. So while I was handing him a pizza
[14:28] Speaker 1: and dodging his questions, she was already... Jesus. Reggie looked
[14:33] Speaker 1: like he was going to be sick. I just felt empty.
[14:37] Speaker 1: Like all the noise in the world had cut out,
[14:39] Speaker 1: leaving only the sound of blood pumping behind my eyes.
[14:43] Speaker 1: Detective Vasquez didn't say more. Didn't need to. They had Carl.
[14:48] Speaker 1: That part was over. But I couldn't stop thinking. Was
[14:52] Speaker 1: she still alive when I rang his bell? Was she
[14:55] Speaker 1: just feet away, waiting, hoping I'd knock louder? Say something.
[15:01] Speaker 1: I didn't. I delivered the pizza and walked. Away. I
[15:07] Speaker 1: left her. I couldn't stay in that apartment. Not with
[15:11] Speaker 1: her door just feet from mine. Not with the sound
[15:14] Speaker 1: of footsteps echoing in the halls at night, imagined or not.
[15:19] Speaker 1: I packed what little I had and begged Reggie to
[15:21] Speaker 1: let me sleep in the back room of the store
[15:24] Speaker 1: for a few nights. He said okay, no questions. The
[15:28] Speaker 1: nightmares started immediately. Lena's voice whispering from behind walls. Carl's
[15:33] Speaker 1: grin behind every reflection. Then, a week later, My phone buzzed.
[15:38] Speaker 1: A delivery notification. From an unknown number. The address? New apartment.
[15:45] Speaker 1: I hadn't told anyone. The note read, You should have knocked.
[15:50] Speaker 1: Attached was a photo. Lena's half-eaten cookie. The one she
[15:54] Speaker 1: gave me a week before she died. I stared at
[15:57] Speaker 1: the screen until my hands went numb. He knew where.
[16:02] Speaker 1: I lived where I moved. That night. I put my
[16:05] Speaker 1: phone in the freezer, grabbed Reggie's bat and sat with
[16:07] Speaker 1: my back to the wall until the sun came up.
[16:10] Speaker 1: Because I knew now, nowhere is safe. Sometimes we overlook
[16:16] Speaker 1: the quiet ones, the lonely neighbors, the strange customers, the
[16:21] Speaker 1: shadows near the dumpster. But silence doesn't mean safety. And
[16:26] Speaker 1: when your gut tells you something's wrong, trust it. Don't wait.
[16:31] Speaker 1: Don't second guess. Because one knock too late can cost
[16:35] Speaker 1: someone everything. Working nights at Domino's wasn't glamorous, but it
[16:43] Speaker 1: paid enough to help with my little brother Mateo's therapy.
[16:47] Speaker 1: He was diagnosed with autism when he was five, and
[16:50] Speaker 1: I promised our mom I'd do whatever it took to
[16:52] Speaker 1: make sure he got the care he needed, even if
[16:55] Speaker 1: it meant standing behind a greasy counter under busted AC
[16:58] Speaker 1: in a strip mall where the parking lot lights buzzed
[17:00] Speaker 1: more than they shined. Phoenix in July is a furnace
[17:04] Speaker 1: that never shuts off. At 9.30 p.m., the asphalt still
[17:08] Speaker 1: felt like it was breathing heat. My Corolla coughed every
[17:12] Speaker 1: time I turned the key, and the phone in my
[17:14] Speaker 1: apron pocket had a spiderweb crack from the last fight
[17:16] Speaker 1: with my ex. I didn't think much of it back then.
[17:20] Speaker 1: I'd been through worse, but I wasn't ready for Troy Haskins.
[17:24] Speaker 1: Troy was one of those regulars who made your skin itch. Mid-50s,
[17:28] Speaker 1: wiry frame, nicotine teeth. and a voice that always sounded
[17:32] Speaker 1: like it was scratching its way out of his throat.
[17:35] Speaker 1: Every night at 9.15 he ordered the same thing, medium pepperoni,
[17:39] Speaker 1: always in cash, always exact change. But he never just
[17:44] Speaker 1: took the pizza and left. He stayed, watching, talking too slow,
[17:49] Speaker 1: standing too close. That night, he said something different. You.
[17:55] Speaker 1: Got real pretty hands, he said, leaning across the counter
[17:59] Speaker 1: like he belonged there. I've been watching how fast you
[18:02] Speaker 1: count change. I gave him a tight smile, sliding the
[18:07] Speaker 1: box across. Here's your order. He didn't move. You ever
[18:12] Speaker 1: deliver to the old motel on 7th? I stay there sometimes.
[18:16] Speaker 1: Real quiet. Nobody'd hear you scream. The words hit like
[18:22] Speaker 1: ice water. My fingers clenched the edge of the counter.
[18:26] Speaker 1: That's when Derek stepped up behind. Me, he didn't say much,
[18:30] Speaker 1: just gripped the steel bat he kept under the register.
[18:32] Speaker 1: You need something else, pal? Troy smirked, stepped back. Nah.
[18:39] Speaker 1: I'll see you tomorrow, Mia. I didn't answer. I didn't
[18:44] Speaker 1: breathe until the door clicked shut behind him. The next night,
[18:47] Speaker 1: I thought maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe I'd imagined
[18:51] Speaker 1: the way his voice dragged over my name. But when
[18:55] Speaker 1: I pulled into the Domino's lot, I saw him. Troy. Troy.
[18:59] Speaker 1: already there, leaning against the side of the building, just watching.
[19:04] Speaker 1: He didn't come in, not at first, just stood there,
[19:09] Speaker 1: eyes glued to the window like he was waiting. For
[19:12] Speaker 1: a cue, Derek noticed too. He been out there long?
[19:16] Speaker 1: I nodded, since before my shift started. He doesn't buy
[19:21] Speaker 1: something in ten, I'll tell him to move. But Troy
[19:24] Speaker 1: didn't leave. He came in, bought his usual, didn't say
[19:28] Speaker 1: a word, Just smiled. That same, slow, teeth-yellow grin. When
[19:34] Speaker 1: I clocked out that night, I found a note under
[19:36] Speaker 1: my windshield wiper. I like when you wear your hair down.
[19:41] Speaker 1: I didn't wear it down often. Only once, last week.
[19:44] Speaker 1: The shift I left late. I showed Derek. He didn't
[19:49] Speaker 1: say much. just tucked the note into a drawer and
[19:51] Speaker 1: told me to park closer to the door. Then came
[19:54] Speaker 1: the calls. Three times in one shift. The store phone
[19:58] Speaker 1: would ring, I'd pick up, and there'd be nothing. Just breathing. Slow. Measured.
[20:06] Speaker 1: Not even trying to hide it. On the third one,
[20:09] Speaker 1: Derek answered, You call again, I'm calling the cops. He
[20:15] Speaker 1: slammed the phone down hard enough to rattle the countertop.
[20:19] Speaker 1: That night I walked to my car with my keys
[20:21] Speaker 1: laced between my fingers. I checked the back seat. Twice.
[20:26] Speaker 1: I didn't sleep when I got home. Every creak in
[20:28] Speaker 1: the apartment made me sit up. I locked my bedroom
[20:31] Speaker 1: door and pushed a chair in front of it. I
[20:34] Speaker 1: kept telling myself maybe he was just a creep. But
[20:38] Speaker 1: deep down, I already knew the truth. He wasn't watching
[20:42] Speaker 1: for fun. He was planning. It was a Thursday when
[20:47] Speaker 1: it finally escalated. A quiet night. Orders slowed after 9pm.
[20:54] Speaker 1: I'd been watching the clock, trying to figure out how
[20:57] Speaker 1: many more shifts I needed to cover Mateo's new therapy bill.
[21:01] Speaker 1: Insurance barely helped anymore and my bank account was gasping
[21:04] Speaker 1: for air. At 10.15 we closed. Derek stayed back to
[21:09] Speaker 1: mop while I counted the drawer. I moved fast, wanting
[21:13] Speaker 1: to get out before the heat settled in my bones.
[21:16] Speaker 1: I remember thinking how the air outside smelled like burnt
[21:20] Speaker 1: rubber and dust. Then I saw him. Troy was leaning
[21:24] Speaker 1: on my car like it belonged to him. One boot
[21:27] Speaker 1: up on the bumper, arms folded, that grin still stuck
[21:30] Speaker 1: to his face. I froze at the door. Derek noticed.
[21:35] Speaker 1: You good? I pointed. He's back. Derek grabbed the bat.
[21:40] Speaker 1: Stay inside, he said, but I didn't listen. I stepped
[21:44] Speaker 1: out fast, keys in hand, moving like maybe I wasn't scared,
[21:49] Speaker 1: like maybe pretending I had control would make it true.
[21:53] Speaker 1: Troy straightened. You. He took a step closer, knew you'd
[21:59] Speaker 1: be alone eventually. Lunged. I barely had time to fumble
[22:03] Speaker 1: my keys before his hand locked around my wrist. His
[22:07] Speaker 1: grip was dry and hard. like leather left in the
[22:10] Speaker 1: sun too long. Let me go, I screamed, trying to
[22:14] Speaker 1: twist away. And then, headlights. Loud, blaring horn. Derek's wound.
[22:22] Speaker 1: Truck came flying into the lot. The tires screamed against
[22:26] Speaker 1: the pavement. Troy flinched, let go, and bolted. He didn't
[22:30] Speaker 1: run toward the street. He ran into the desert behind
[22:33] Speaker 1: the strip mall, into darkness and cactus, and God knows
[22:36] Speaker 1: what else. Derek jumped out, still holding the bat, but
[22:40] Speaker 1: Troy was already gone. I didn't cry until I got home.
[22:45] Speaker 1: The cops came that night. I filed a report, showed
[22:48] Speaker 1: them the note, told them about the breathing on the phone.
[22:51] Speaker 1: The motel comment. They didn't roll their eyes, but they
[22:55] Speaker 1: didn't seem too shocked either. They said they'd checked the
[22:59] Speaker 1: old motel on 7th Avenue. The next day, they called.
[23:04] Speaker 1: They found his room. I didn't go there. Didn't want to.
[23:09] Speaker 1: But the officer on the phone sounded shaken. Said the
[23:12] Speaker 1: walls were covered in photos. Of me. At the counter.
[23:17] Speaker 1: Behind the register. Getting out of my car. Tying my apron.
[23:21] Speaker 1: They found a stolen Domino's hat in the room too.
[23:25] Speaker 1: One of the old designs. A receipt from a fake
[23:27] Speaker 1: order placed three weeks ago. Someone had been watching for
[23:30] Speaker 1: longer than I realized. I didn't sleep that weekend. I
[23:33] Speaker 1: didn't go outside alone. Every time someone knocked on our
[23:37] Speaker 1: apartment door, I jumped. Derek started walking me to my
[23:41] Speaker 1: car after every shift. Didn't matter if it was closing
[23:45] Speaker 1: or dinner rush. But eventually I had to quit. I
[23:48] Speaker 1: couldn't risk it. Not with Mateo at home. Not with
[23:52] Speaker 1: my mom worrying every time I left. I applied to
[23:56] Speaker 1: other jobs, but nothing worked with the hours Mateo needed
[23:59] Speaker 1: me home. His therapy bills started piling up again. I
[24:04] Speaker 1: picked up a few cleaning gigs, but nothing stable. I
[24:07] Speaker 1: started carrying a knife in my purse, kept it under
[24:10] Speaker 1: my pillow at night, just in case. Sometimes I'd wake
[24:14] Speaker 1: up gasping, sure I'd heard someone at the window. I'd
[24:18] Speaker 1: check the locks twice before I could breathe. My life
[24:21] Speaker 1: didn't get better, just quieter, but not safe. Never safe.
[24:30] Speaker 1: A month passed. I started to think maybe it was
[24:33] Speaker 1: really over. Maybe Troy had run too far into the
[24:36] Speaker 1: desert and disappeared for good. Then I got a message.
[24:41] Speaker 1: It was from Ellie, the girl who took over my
[24:43] Speaker 1: old shifts at Domino's. She was new, barely 18, still
[24:47] Speaker 1: in high school. I'd trained her for maybe three days
[24:50] Speaker 1: before I left. Her text said, some creep keeps asking
[24:56] Speaker 1: if you still work here. Attached was a blurry photo
[25:00] Speaker 1: she'd taken through the window. It was Troy. Face pressed.
[25:05] Speaker 1: To the glass. Yellow smile. Watching. That was all. No
[25:12] Speaker 1: police follow-up. No news reports. Nothing. He was still out there.
[25:17] Speaker 1: Maybe still watching. I didn't reply to Ellie. I didn't
[25:21] Speaker 1: want to scare her more. I just blocked the number
[25:24] Speaker 1: and sat on the edge of my bed until morning.
[25:28] Speaker 1: I still carry the knife. Still check the locks. Still
[25:31] Speaker 1: sleep in shifts. Because the thing no one tells you is,
[25:35] Speaker 1: when someone decides to fixate on you, there's no warning.
[25:38] Speaker 1: No safe place. No rules. No reasons. Just waiting. Just watching.
[25:44] Speaker 1: Nowhere is safe. Sometimes fear isn't irrational. It's protective. Listen
[25:51] Speaker 1: to it. Trust it. Speak up sooner, even if your
[25:55] Speaker 1: voice shakes. Because not every regular customer is harmless, and
[25:59] Speaker 1: not every stare is empty. Ignoring the red flags might
[26:02] Speaker 1: help you keep a job, but it could cost you
[26:04] Speaker 1: your safety. Or worse. They say the cold gets into
[26:13] Speaker 1: your bones, but I think it starts in your head.
[26:16] Speaker 1: You stop caring when your fingers go numb. That's how
[26:18] Speaker 1: I've been living for the last eight months. Numb and
[26:21] Speaker 1: not caring. After the Hemlo mine cut half its staff,
[26:25] Speaker 1: I got pink slipped like the rest. I thought I'd
[26:29] Speaker 1: be back underground within weeks. That was last spring. Now,
[26:32] Speaker 1: I deliver pizzas out of a run-down Domino's off a
[26:35] Speaker 1: service road near the Trans-Canada Highway in Thunder Bay. We're
[26:39] Speaker 1: open 24-7 even. When God himself calls in sick, tonight
[26:43] Speaker 1: was one of those nights. Blizzard warning. Wind chill reading.
[26:47] Speaker 1: 35 degrees C. But that doesn't stop orders from coming in.
[26:51] Speaker 1: Some folks get hungry or lonely or both. Raj, my
[26:55] Speaker 1: shift manager, tossed me the keys at 1.15 a.m. I
[26:58] Speaker 1: was the last guy standing. Address is 2279 Lakeshore Drive.
[27:04] Speaker 1: Big tip. Cash. I nodded, pulled my hoodie tighter and
[27:08] Speaker 1: stepped into the kind of snowstorm that kills moose. My
[27:11] Speaker 1: Dodge Ram's heater had been dead since November and I
[27:15] Speaker 1: didn't have the money to fix it, not with child
[27:17] Speaker 1: support due. My ex took our daughter to Vancouver and
[27:22] Speaker 1: the judge took the rest of me. The GPS showed
[27:25] Speaker 1: a long dark stretch past an abandoned truck stop Nothing
[27:29] Speaker 1: but trees and wind. I followed it anyway. That's what
[27:33] Speaker 1: you do when you're running low on gas, hope, and choices.
[27:36] Speaker 1: I found, 2279 by accident, a rotted mailbox buried in snow,
[27:42] Speaker 1: pointing to a shack near the frozen bay. It looked
[27:45] Speaker 1: like a collapsed boathouse. The roof had caved in under
[27:48] Speaker 1: years of ice. I killed the engine. Then my phone rang.
[27:54] Speaker 1: I answered, and a child's voice whispered, You're late. I
[28:00] Speaker 1: sat there for a second, frozen in place. That voice
[28:02] Speaker 1: wasn't the robotic kind you expect from prank calls. It
[28:05] Speaker 1: was soft, tired, and cold. Too cold. Who is this?
[28:11] Speaker 1: I asked. But the line went dead. The boathouse door
[28:15] Speaker 1: creaked open on its own, slow and deliberate like it
[28:18] Speaker 1: had been waiting. I grabbed the pizza bag and crunched
[28:21] Speaker 1: through knee-deep snow, boots already soaked. The wind stabbed my face,
[28:27] Speaker 1: but I wasn't turning back without dropping that order. I
[28:30] Speaker 1: needed the money. A figure stepped out from the doorway, tall,
[28:35] Speaker 1: padded in a snowmobile suit, full helmet hiding everything. The
[28:39] Speaker 1: visor was down, reflecting the porch light that shouldn't have
[28:42] Speaker 1: been on. You made it. The figure rasped. Voice distorted,
[28:48] Speaker 1: but human. Pizza for... I guess you know, I said.
[28:53] Speaker 1: It nodded and reached out with gloved hands, offering exact
[28:56] Speaker 1: change in cash. I blinked. All $ 2 bills. Toonies but paper,
[29:01] Speaker 1: not coin. We stopped printing those in the 90s. Keep
[29:05] Speaker 1: the change. I hesitated. The glove slipped as they grabbed
[29:10] Speaker 1: the box, revealing fingers blackened and cracked with frostbite. Skin flaking.
[29:16] Speaker 1: Like old rubber. I pulled back. Jesus, you okay? But
[29:21] Speaker 1: the figure didn't answer. It just tilted its head and
[29:24] Speaker 1: stood perfectly still, box in hand. Then the porch light
[29:28] Speaker 1: blew out. Everything fell dark except the snow light off
[29:32] Speaker 1: the lake. I backed away slipping, barely making it to
[29:36] Speaker 1: the truck. As I fumbled for the door handle, I
[29:38] Speaker 1: heard the boathouse door slam shut. like a shotgun. I
[29:41] Speaker 1: peeled out, tires spinning on ice. The dashboard lights flickered.
[29:47] Speaker 1: For a second, I thought I saw small handprints fogging
[29:50] Speaker 1: the inside of the passenger window. I didn't stop to check.
[29:54] Speaker 1: I just drove. Back on the highway, I started breathing again.
[29:59] Speaker 1: the kind of breath that fogs up glass and proves
[30:01] Speaker 1: you're still alive. Snow roared sideways across my windshield, but
[30:05] Speaker 1: I stayed the course, knowing each mile back to Domino's
[30:08] Speaker 1: was a mile away from whatever the hell that was.
[30:11] Speaker 1: Then the headlights appeared. Bright, round, and way too close.
[30:17] Speaker 1: I checked my mirror. Nothing but light. No grill, no bumper,
[30:21] Speaker 1: no driver. Just two white circles floating like eyes in
[30:24] Speaker 1: a nightmare. I tapped the gas. The truck accelerated on
[30:29] Speaker 1: its own. Pedals sank under my foot, pressed flat. What
[30:34] Speaker 1: the hell? I muttered, gripping the wheel as we tore
[30:37] Speaker 1: through snow drifts at 90. Clicks per hour. The radio hissed,
[30:41] Speaker 1: station gone. Static filled the cab, then a voice barely
[30:45] Speaker 1: audible through the noise. You forgot my dipping sauce. I
[30:49] Speaker 1: nearly swerved off the road. It wasn't a child's voice anymore.
[30:54] Speaker 1: It was wrong. Hollow. like someone mimicking a kid without
[30:58] Speaker 1: understanding how mouths worked. Then the headlights vanished. No flash.
[31:04] Speaker 1: No turn. Just gone. I braked hard at the county line,
[31:09] Speaker 1: spinning halfway into the ditch. I sat there for five minutes,
[31:13] Speaker 1: breathing like I'd just climbed a shaft ladder. The truck's
[31:16] Speaker 1: heater let out one final wheeze and died completely. When
[31:21] Speaker 1: I made it back to the shop, Raj was gone.
[31:24] Speaker 1: I tossed the keys on the counter and stumbled into
[31:26] Speaker 1: the break room. Heart racing. I opened the cash envelope.
[31:31] Speaker 1: The bills inside? Not. Paper anymore. Ash. Burnt. Cold. Still
[31:38] Speaker 1: shaped like money. I went home and slept with the
[31:41] Speaker 1: lights on. Just for one night. But the knocking started anyway.
[31:47] Speaker 1: I woke up to tapping on my door. Three soft knocks.
[31:52] Speaker 1: Then silence. No footsteps in the hall. No neighbors awake
[31:57] Speaker 1: at 3.27 AM. I didn't open the door. I stared
[32:02] Speaker 1: at it for over an hour until the sun started
[32:04] Speaker 1: to rise behind heavy clouds. When I finally checked the peephole,
[32:08] Speaker 1: there was nothing there except a pizza box. No address,
[32:12] Speaker 1: no sticker, just Marcus scrawled in red marker. I didn't
[32:15] Speaker 1: touch it. I left it there all day. That morning,
[32:19] Speaker 1: I went back to Domino's with the delivery slip from
[32:22] Speaker 1: last night. I wanted answers. Raj stared at the slip.
[32:26] Speaker 1: Like I'd handed him a confession, then he laughed, quiet
[32:29] Speaker 1: and nervous. Bro, this is your handwriting. What? You wrote this, see?
[32:35] Speaker 1: He showed me a post-it from last week. Same scrawl.
[32:38] Speaker 1: Same uneven R's. I felt something crawl up my spine.
[32:43] Speaker 1: There's no 2279 Lakeshore, he added. That whole stretch went
[32:47] Speaker 1: under back in 87. They flooded it for shoreline cleanup.
[32:51] Speaker 1: I didn't say anything. I just nodded, left, and drove
[32:54] Speaker 1: to the mechanic. I needed my truck fixed or torched.
[32:57] Speaker 1: I told him to check the passenger door where I'd
[32:59] Speaker 1: seen the handprints he called me later that night. You
[33:02] Speaker 1: got kids? He asked. No. Why? Because there's child-sized prints
[33:09] Speaker 1: frozen into the metal, under the paint, like, embedded. I
[33:15] Speaker 1: hung up. When I got home, the box was gone.
[33:20] Speaker 1: But there was a birthday card in my mailbox, one
[33:23] Speaker 1: my daughter had made last year, Same drawing. Same handwriting.
[33:28] Speaker 1: But postmarked Thunder Bay. She lives in Vancouver. I stopped
[33:34] Speaker 1: delivering after that. Told Raj I was done with the
[33:37] Speaker 1: graveyard shift. He didn't argue. Probably saw it in my face.
[33:41] Speaker 1: I wasn't right anymore. But that night, I woke up again.
[33:47] Speaker 1: No knocks this time. Just my truck idling in the driveway.
[33:50] Speaker 1: Headlights on. Keys still on my kitchen table. I walked
[33:56] Speaker 1: outside barefoot. The snow didn't burn. It felt warm, like water.
[34:02] Speaker 1: The passenger door was open. A domino's slip sat on
[34:06] Speaker 1: the dash. New address, 41 Crystal Hollow. Another non-existent place.
[34:12] Speaker 1: But the handwriting was mine again. And the pizza box,
[34:16] Speaker 1: already in the truck bed. I've started driving again. Not
[34:21] Speaker 1: because I want to, but because when I don't, something
[34:24] Speaker 1: else does. My phone buzzes with order-confirmed texts that disappear
[34:28] Speaker 1: seconds later. The tips always land in my account, amounts
[34:32] Speaker 1: I never earn. And the repo man called last week.
[34:35] Speaker 1: Said he followed my truck to the edge of the
[34:37] Speaker 1: bay at 2.13 a.m. But I was asleep. Alone. Now
[34:43] Speaker 1: I just follow the roads the GPS shouldn't know. Places
[34:47] Speaker 1: people swear don't exist anymore. I hand off boxes I
[34:51] Speaker 1: never pack to people with no faces. I don't look
[34:54] Speaker 1: too close. I don't ask names, because I know now.
[34:58] Speaker 1: Some debts don't come in envelopes. Some are paid in
[35:01] Speaker 1: miles and frostbite and forgotten. Dames, and some jobs? You
[35:05] Speaker 1: don't quit. They quit you. Desperation can make you ignore
[35:09] Speaker 1: the signs, frozen roads, phantom voices, even your own handwriting.
[35:13] Speaker 1: But every choice leaves a mark, especially the ones you
[35:16] Speaker 1: pretend you didn't make. I didn't have much left. a
[35:24] Speaker 1: busted Ford Ranger with no AC, a maxed-out credit card,
[35:28] Speaker 1: and a $ 43 Domino's uniform that always smelled like garlic
[35:31] Speaker 1: and fryer grease. I was 29, working nights in Fort Worth,
[35:36] Speaker 1: crashing on my buddy Kyle's couch after Michelle walked out
[35:39] Speaker 1: on me two months ago, said she couldn't be with
[35:42] Speaker 1: a man still stuck in neutral. She wasn't wrong. My
[35:46] Speaker 1: only anchor was Rusty, my rescue beagle with the lazy
[35:49] Speaker 1: eye and a bark that sounded like a squeaky hinge.
[35:53] Speaker 1: I got him after Dad died Never thought a $ 10
[35:56] Speaker 1: shelter dog would end up meaning more than half the
[35:58] Speaker 1: people in my life. That night in August, the air
[36:02] Speaker 1: was thick like soup and the cicadas were screaming. My
[36:05] Speaker 1: last run was an order to a ranch house out
[36:07] Speaker 1: on Old Mill Road. Cash order. Tip already calculated. Just
[36:12] Speaker 1: enough for a gas refill. The note said, Leave it
[36:16] Speaker 1: on the porch. Don't knock. Weird, but I'd seen weirder.
[36:22] Speaker 1: One time, a guy paid me to sing happy birthday
[36:25] Speaker 1: to his cat. I pulled off the main road and
[36:28] Speaker 1: onto a gravel drive that twisted like a snake. When
[36:31] Speaker 1: my headlights finally hit the porch, I saw something small
[36:34] Speaker 1: and familiar lying near the first step. I threw the
[36:38] Speaker 1: truck in park and stepped out. It was Rusty's collar. Red. Worn.
[36:45] Speaker 1: His name tag dangling from the buckle, still warm from
[36:48] Speaker 1: the day. My chest tightened. Rusty never left the house.
[36:54] Speaker 1: Kyle never let him out. Then I saw the tire tracks,
[36:58] Speaker 1: freshly dug into the dirt, veering back toward the woods.
[37:02] Speaker 1: And next to them, a smear of dark, wet blood.
[37:07] Speaker 1: That pizza box hit the ground fast. I already knew
[37:10] Speaker 1: I wasn't delivering anything tonight. I called Mitch, the night manager.
[37:15] Speaker 1: I couldn't even string words together at first. Just said
[37:18] Speaker 1: something happened out on Old Mill and I needed him. Bad.
[37:22] Speaker 1: To his credit, He didn't ask questions, just said, Stay there.
[37:27] Speaker 1: I'm coming. Fifteen minutes later, his truck pulled. Headlights bouncing
[37:32] Speaker 1: across the trees. He stepped out, all six foot four
[37:35] Speaker 1: of him, ex-marine backbone stiff as rebar. You okay? He asked.
[37:41] Speaker 1: I shook my head and pointed to the collar. Mitch's
[37:44] Speaker 1: face paled. Shit. We followed the tire marks. His flashlight
[37:49] Speaker 1: cut through the trees like a scalpel. It was hot
[37:52] Speaker 1: and still. No wind. Not even the buzz of bugs.
[37:55] Speaker 1: The kind of quiet that doesn't belong in nature. We
[37:59] Speaker 1: didn't walk more than 30 yards. Before I saw it,
[38:02] Speaker 1: rusty or what used to be him. He was laid
[38:05] Speaker 1: out like a ritual. His little body, skin so clean
[38:08] Speaker 1: it looked fake. His paws, tail and head untouched. The
[38:11] Speaker 1: rest was just raw muscle and bone. His eyes were closed.
[38:16] Speaker 1: Peaceful even. Like someone had taken the time to be careful.
[38:20] Speaker 1: Mitch stumbled back and puked in the bushes. I dropped
[38:24] Speaker 1: to my knees and felt everything inside me just snap.
[38:28] Speaker 1: I didn't scream. Didn't cry. Just sat there with my
[38:31] Speaker 1: hands shaking so bad I couldn't even pull out my
[38:33] Speaker 1: phone to call 911. Mitch eventually did. Told them there
[38:37] Speaker 1: was an animal killing and they'd want to see it
[38:40] Speaker 1: for themselves. But I already knew what they'd say. Coyotes.
[38:45] Speaker 1: Maybe a sick person. No leads. No cameras. But this
[38:50] Speaker 1: wasn't random. This was personal. And somewhere in the woods
[38:54] Speaker 1: behind that house, someone was watching us the whole time.
[38:58] Speaker 1: Deputy Ruiz and Deputy Carter showed up 20 minutes later.
[39:01] Speaker 1: Flashlights in hand, guns holstered, faces unreadable. They examined Rusty's body,
[39:09] Speaker 1: the skinned fur, the strange placement. Mitch and I stood back, silent.
[39:15] Speaker 1: I caught Ruiz glancing at me more than once. You
[39:19] Speaker 1: sure it's your dog? He finally asked. I didn't answer.
[39:24] Speaker 1: I just handed him a photo of Rusty from my phone,
[39:26] Speaker 1: sitting on the couch with his tongue lolling out, eyes goofy.
[39:30] Speaker 1: collar red. Ruiz nodded, then motioned to something in the
[39:34] Speaker 1: dirt nearby. Hoof prints. Horse? Mitch asked. Looks like it,
[39:42] Speaker 1: Ruiz said. Not many folks ride out this way, and
[39:45] Speaker 1: certainly not at night. Carter walked a few feet ahead
[39:48] Speaker 1: and stopped. Hey. got something else. He pulled a butcher's
[39:53] Speaker 1: knife out of the ground, half buried under a thin
[39:56] Speaker 1: layer of pine needles. Dried blood clung to the blade.
[40:00] Speaker 1: Rust had started to bloom near the hilt. Then Carter
[40:04] Speaker 1: held up a wrinkled piece of receipt paper, stuck to
[40:07] Speaker 1: the handle, with sap. My name was circled in red ink.
[40:11] Speaker 1: That's when I lost it. He was watching me. Someone's
[40:16] Speaker 1: been watching me. Ruiz raised his hands. We'll take it in.
[40:21] Speaker 1: No guarantees, but we'll run Prince. You should go home.
[40:25] Speaker 1: Get some rest. Rest, Rusty, was the one thing I
[40:30] Speaker 1: had left. Now he was gone, and all they could
[40:33] Speaker 1: offer was a paper bag with evidence and a maybe.
[40:37] Speaker 1: Mitch drove me home that night. Neither of us said much.
[40:40] Speaker 1: He just kept checking the rearview mirror. I couldn't blame him.
[40:44] Speaker 1: I was doing the same thing. I quit. Dominoes the
[40:48] Speaker 1: next morning texted Mitch and said I couldn't come back.
[40:51] Speaker 1: Couldn't smell the dough or hear that damn order printer
[40:54] Speaker 1: without picturing what happened in those woods. Kyle tried to
[40:57] Speaker 1: comfort me, said maybe it was just some sick hick
[41:00] Speaker 1: with a grudge against pets. But I knew better. Rusty
[41:04] Speaker 1: wasn't random. They lured me out there for a reason.
[41:07] Speaker 1: They wanted me to see it. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat.
[41:11] Speaker 1: I checked the locks four or five times a night.
[41:14] Speaker 1: I kept hearing Rusty's tags jingling. except they were still
[41:17] Speaker 1: in my glove compartment exactly where I left them after
[41:20] Speaker 1: the deputies logged them as evidence and let me keep them. Then,
[41:24] Speaker 1: exactly one week later, I got a Domino's order notification
[41:28] Speaker 1: on my phone. I hadn't opened the app since I quit.
[41:33] Speaker 1: My account was deleted. The message was short. You shouldn't
[41:38] Speaker 1: have looked for him. And below that, a photo. My
[41:43] Speaker 1: apartment's front door taken from just a few feet away
[41:46] Speaker 1: I dropped the phone. Ran to the window. No one
[41:50] Speaker 1: was there. No cars. No bikes. Just the sound of
[41:54] Speaker 1: cicadas again. Louder than ever. Like they were trying to
[41:57] Speaker 1: cover something else. But I reported it again. Ruiz said
[42:02] Speaker 1: they'd look into it. But I knew they wouldn't find anything.
[42:05] Speaker 1: This person wasn't just sick. They were smart and they
[42:08] Speaker 1: weren't done. Not with me. Not yet. I started crashing
[42:12] Speaker 1: in my truck. Moving it around every couple nights. I
[42:15] Speaker 1: didn't tell Kyle why. Just said, I needed space. Truth was,
[42:21] Speaker 1: I didn't want anyone else dragged into this. I started
[42:24] Speaker 1: hearing things. Scratches at the door. Clicks on my windows.
[42:28] Speaker 1: A cough from the dark. Maybe real. Maybe my brain.
[42:32] Speaker 1: Fried from grief and guilt and no sleep. Didn't matter.
[42:37] Speaker 1: It felt real. I started seeing flyers around town. Lost
[42:42] Speaker 1: dog posters. Different breeds. All missing from neighborhoods within five
[42:47] Speaker 1: miles of mine. Same week. Same time frame. I knew.
[42:53] Speaker 1: They weren't lost. They were taken. Like rusty. I drove
[42:59] Speaker 1: back to Old Mill Road once. Just to look. The
[43:03] Speaker 1: tire tracks were gone. The house, empty. For sale sign
[43:07] Speaker 1: out front. No furniture inside. I called the listing number. The...
[43:13] Speaker 1: Agents said the property had been vacant for over a year.
[43:16] Speaker 1: No one named Jay Doe had ever placed an order
[43:19] Speaker 1: from that address. There had never been a delivery scheduled
[43:22] Speaker 1: that night. They set me up. From the start. I
[43:27] Speaker 1: tried to tell the cops again. They just told me
[43:30] Speaker 1: to get help. Said I sounded off. I am off.
[43:35] Speaker 1: But I'm also not wrong. Somewhere out there, the Skinner
[43:38] Speaker 1: is still watching. Still waiting. And he knows where I live.
[43:43] Speaker 1: Because that photo, it wasn't the last one I got.
[43:48] Speaker 1: Last night a new message pinged on my phone. No words.
[43:52] Speaker 1: Just a picture. My old Domino's uniform. Laid out on
[43:56] Speaker 1: my front porch like a body. Sometimes the evil we
[44:00] Speaker 1: fear isn't a ghost or a legend. It's a person.
[44:03] Speaker 1: Flesh and blood. And when you sense something isn't right,
[44:06] Speaker 1: trust your gut. Walk away. Because not every delivery makes
[44:10] Speaker 1: it home. And not every horror ends when the shift does.
[44:19] Speaker 1: It wasn't supposed to be permanent. The job, I mean.
[44:22] Speaker 1: Delivering pizzas for Domino's on the edge of Edmonton's industrial
[44:26] Speaker 1: district wasn't anyone's dream. But dreams cost money. And I
[44:30] Speaker 1: didn't have any. Everything I earned. Every dollar. And every
[44:35] Speaker 1: extra shift went toward keeping my sister's hospital bills from
[44:38] Speaker 1: burying us both. Kara had lupus. the kind that doesn't
[44:42] Speaker 1: give you good days, only bad and worse. Our parents
[44:45] Speaker 1: were out of the picture. Dad walked out when I
[44:48] Speaker 1: was 10, and Mom passed two years ago. I was 24, broke,
[44:53] Speaker 1: and constantly driving a Corolla with a heater that gave
[44:56] Speaker 1: up the ghost sometime last winter. I hadn't had a
[45:00] Speaker 1: full night's sleep in weeks, and my phone battery stayed
[45:02] Speaker 1: red more often than not. The store was on the outskirts,
[45:06] Speaker 1: surrounded by warehouses with broken windows and security lights that
[45:09] Speaker 1: flickered like horror movie props. Our back alley, where we
[45:14] Speaker 1: hauled trash and received inventory, was a narrow strip of
[45:17] Speaker 1: cracked pavement and broken pallets. The graffiti on the walls
[45:21] Speaker 1: looked more like warnings than art. Jess was the only
[45:25] Speaker 1: one who made the job bearable. Our shift manager. She
[45:29] Speaker 1: was in her 30s, sharp as a box cutter, and
[45:32] Speaker 1: always had a taser in her apron. No one messed
[45:35] Speaker 1: with her. Sometimes after the store closed, we'd split a
[45:39] Speaker 1: warm soda and talk about how we both deserved better.
[45:44] Speaker 1: It was October 14th when it happened. First snowfall of
[45:48] Speaker 1: the season. It wasn't even midnight yet. I was taking
[45:52] Speaker 1: out the trash just like I'd done a hundred times before.
[45:55] Speaker 1: Except this time someone was waiting for me in the dark.
[45:59] Speaker 1: I spotted him behind the dumpster, half hidden in the shadows.
[46:04] Speaker 1: At first I thought it was just some guy digging
[46:06] Speaker 1: for scraps. You get used to that in a city
[46:08] Speaker 1: like Edmonton. Then he stepped forward, and I knew better.
[46:13] Speaker 1: He wasn't searching for food. He was watching me. He
[46:17] Speaker 1: was tall, thin, with this look in his eyes like
[46:21] Speaker 1: he hadn't blinked in hours. His cheeks were hollow and
[46:24] Speaker 1: his breath steamed in the cold like smoke from a
[46:26] Speaker 1: dying fire. Hey, he rasped, you work here? I tightened
[46:32] Speaker 1: my grip on the trash bag and gave him a
[46:34] Speaker 1: cautious nod. Yeah. He took another step. His boots crunched
[46:40] Speaker 1: on the icy pavement. I used to deliver for this place,
[46:43] Speaker 1: he said, voice cracked and low. They fired me for stealing.
[46:47] Speaker 1: Bunch of liars. His hands flexed at his sides, like
[46:51] Speaker 1: he was waiting for a reason to move. I took
[46:54] Speaker 1: a step back, slow and careful. My chest felt tight
[46:58] Speaker 1: like my ribs were locking up. I... I'm just taking
[47:01] Speaker 1: out the trash, man, I muttered. I bet you never
[47:04] Speaker 1: even got written up, huh? He said, his tone twisting.
[47:09] Speaker 1: Bet they love you. Then he lunged. I dropped the
[47:14] Speaker 1: trash and ran for the door, my shoes slipping on
[47:17] Speaker 1: the thin layer of snow. My heart slammed against my ribs.
[47:21] Speaker 1: I hit the back door full force. Jess, open up!
[47:25] Speaker 1: I felt fingers brush my shoulder. The door clicked open
[47:29] Speaker 1: just as I twisted free. Jess yanked me inside, slammed
[47:33] Speaker 1: the door, and locked it behind us. We stood in silence, panting. Then,
[47:40] Speaker 1: through the narrow glass pane, we saw his face, pressed
[47:44] Speaker 1: against it, fogging it with each breath. And then, just
[47:48] Speaker 1: like that, he was gone. Cops showed up ten minutes later.
[47:51] Speaker 1: I took statements. One of them even recognized the guy
[47:54] Speaker 1: from a previous case. His name was Marcus Boone. He'd
[47:58] Speaker 1: done time for break-ins and petty theft. was out on parole,
[48:02] Speaker 1: apparently staying with his brother not far from the store.
[48:06] Speaker 1: They found his fingerprints on the dumpster and the back
[48:09] Speaker 1: door handle, enough to issue a warrant for violating parole
[48:12] Speaker 1: but not enough to make anyone feel safer. Jess pulled
[48:16] Speaker 1: me aside the next day before my shift. You quitting?
[48:20] Speaker 1: She asked, already knowing. The answer. I nodded. I couldn't
[48:26] Speaker 1: go back out there, couldn't take the trash out without
[48:28] Speaker 1: feeling eyes on me. She handed me a sealed envelope.
[48:33] Speaker 1: There's 200 in there. Tips I fudged. Call it hazard pay.
[48:38] Speaker 1: I started to protest, but she cut me off with
[48:41] Speaker 1: a look. Get a better job, Mitchell. You don't belong
[48:45] Speaker 1: in alleys. I left that night, didn't even pack a
[48:48] Speaker 1: goodbye pizza. I tried to tell myself it was over,
[48:51] Speaker 1: that I'd gotten away. But fear isn't something you leave behind.
[48:57] Speaker 1: I picked up a new job at a 24-hour gas
[48:59] Speaker 1: station on the edge of town. It was worse in
[49:03] Speaker 1: all the ways that mattered. The smell, the creeps, the
[49:05] Speaker 1: night shifts that seemed longer somehow, even though the hours
[49:08] Speaker 1: were the same. Every shadow near the dumpsters made me flinch.
[49:13] Speaker 1: Every customer who lingered too long set my pulse racing.
[49:16] Speaker 1: I started double-locking every door, checking the bathroom, stalls before
[49:20] Speaker 1: I cleaned. There were nights I swore I saw his
[49:24] Speaker 1: face again, just for a second, in the reflections of
[49:26] Speaker 1: the station windows. My gut told me Marcus wasn't done.
[49:30] Speaker 1: Not with me. And then, one month to the day
[49:34] Speaker 1: after the alley incident, I got a text. No name.
[49:37] Speaker 1: Just a message. You should have stayed. Attached was a photo.
[49:43] Speaker 1: It showed the back door of Domino's. Taken at night.
[49:47] Speaker 1: Taken recently. The snow was fresh. The lights were still flickering.
[49:53] Speaker 1: He'd gone back. Or maybe he'd never left. I stared
[49:57] Speaker 1: at the photo until the screen dimmed and my hands
[49:59] Speaker 1: started to shake. I don't know what he wanted. Revenge? Recognition?
[50:05] Speaker 1: Maybe just someone to remember he... existed. I never answered the message,
[50:11] Speaker 1: but I changed my number the next morning because deep
[50:14] Speaker 1: down I knew nowhere is safe. Trust your instincts. Survival
[50:21] Speaker 1: isn't always about being brave. It's about listening to fear
[50:24] Speaker 1: when it whispers in your ear, when the hairs on
[50:26] Speaker 1: your neck stand up, when the shadows move just wrong,
[50:30] Speaker 1: believe it. Because in this world, danger doesn't always knock.
[50:36] Speaker 1: Sometimes it waits by the dumpster, I used to be
[50:43] Speaker 1: a factory guy. Steelworks, 30 years. Same lunch pail, same boots,
[50:47] Speaker 1: same hours. Then came the layoffs. Economic pivot, they called it.
[50:53] Speaker 1: They handed me a severance check and a handshake. That
[50:55] Speaker 1: was five years ago. I poured everything into this Domino's.
[51:00] Speaker 1: All of it. Money, sweat, marriage. Linda and I figured
[51:04] Speaker 1: if we couldn't count on the plant, we could count
[51:06] Speaker 1: on ourselves. She did the books. I ran the ovens.
[51:10] Speaker 1: It wasn't fancy, but it was ours. We worked through blizzards,
[51:15] Speaker 1: staff quitting mid-shift, busted ovens, stolen tips. We kept the
[51:18] Speaker 1: doors open when everyone else in the plaza boarded theirs shut.
[51:23] Speaker 1: Black Friday last year was our best day ever. Nearly
[51:26] Speaker 1: nine grand in one night. People ordering extra because the
[51:30] Speaker 1: snow made them lazy and the cold made them hungry.
[51:33] Speaker 1: I was wiped by close. Linda kissed my cheek and said,
[51:37] Speaker 1: go home, Frank. I'll finish the deposit. I left her there,
[51:41] Speaker 1: standing in the hum of the walk-in cooler in the
[51:43] Speaker 1: clink of quarters in the register. Last time I saw her.
[51:47] Speaker 1: I woke at 2 gao a.m. to an empty bed.
[51:51] Speaker 1: I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep at the shop. That
[51:54] Speaker 1: happens sometimes. But when I drove back over, her car
[51:58] Speaker 1: was in the lot. Windows frosted over, driver's door still locked.
[52:02] Speaker 1: The back door was cracked open. And the safe? Empty.
[52:08] Speaker 1: So was the DVR. I called the cops. They asked
[52:12] Speaker 1: if she had any enemies. I said no. But in
[52:15] Speaker 1: the quiet that followed, I realized something cold had started
[52:19] Speaker 1: crawling into my gut. It wasn't the snow. It was
[52:23] Speaker 1: the kind of knowing you don't want to admit to yourself.
[52:26] Speaker 1: Not until it's too late. And by then, it already was.
[52:31] Speaker 1: Detective Nguyen was the kind of cop who looked like
[52:34] Speaker 1: he hadn't slept in a year. He wore the same
[52:37] Speaker 1: corduroy blazer every time he visited. always with coffee breath
[52:41] Speaker 1: and a voice too calm for the news he brought.
[52:44] Speaker 1: We found this in the trash, he said on day two.
[52:47] Speaker 1: He slid a crumpled note across my Formica table. My
[52:50] Speaker 1: hand shook when I unfolded it. Frank, I'm sorry, it's
[52:53] Speaker 1: the only way. That was it. No signature. Just that
[52:58] Speaker 1: stupid curl in the F like only Linda wrote it.
[53:01] Speaker 1: I felt sick. She left me a goodbye, buried in
[53:04] Speaker 1: the garbage. And that was supposed to be enough? Then
[53:09] Speaker 1: Nguyen started asking questions I didn't have answers to. Did
[53:13] Speaker 1: she seem distracted lately? Withdrawn? She was tired. But it's
[53:19] Speaker 1: November in Winnipeg. Everyone's tired. Did you know about the withdrawals?
[53:27] Speaker 1: I blinked. What withdrawals? He showed me the bank statements.
[53:32] Speaker 1: Over the last month, $ 42, 000 gone. Little by little. ATM here.
[53:38] Speaker 1: Transfer there. None of it flagged. None of it mentioned.
[53:42] Speaker 1: The kicker? A life insurance policy in my name. Taken
[53:46] Speaker 1: out three weeks ago. Big payout if I died. Linda
[53:50] Speaker 1: listed as the sole beneficiary. Nguyen asked if we'd been fighting.
[53:54] Speaker 1: I told him no. I wasn't lying. The fights had
[53:58] Speaker 1: stopped years ago. We were just quiet. Routine. Like two
[54:03] Speaker 1: machines that used to work together but now just ran
[54:05] Speaker 1: beside each other. Maybe I should have seen it. The
[54:08] Speaker 1: longer nights at the shop, the extra trips to the bank,
[54:12] Speaker 1: the way she stopped talking about next summer. But I
[54:16] Speaker 1: trusted her. God help me, I did. And now all
[54:20] Speaker 1: I had left was a greasy apron, a gutted bank account,
[54:23] Speaker 1: and a name no one said without a whisper. After
[54:26] Speaker 1: Linda vanished, things fell apart fast. Domino's corporate pulled the
[54:31] Speaker 1: franchise inside too. A week's failure to maintain standards, they said.
[54:36] Speaker 1: like it was my ovens that went missing, not my wife.
[54:40] Speaker 1: The bank didn't wait long either. I was three payments
[54:43] Speaker 1: behind by January. House went to foreclosure. I moved into
[54:47] Speaker 1: a weekly rate motel with green carpets that smelled like
[54:50] Speaker 1: mildew and old cigarettes. The kind of place that didn't
[54:54] Speaker 1: ask questions or charge extra if you paid in cash.
[54:57] Speaker 1: Only person who checked on me was Ricky. He was
[55:00] Speaker 1: just a kid, 19 maybe, always wore his hat backward
[55:04] Speaker 1: and played metal too loud in the back. but he
[55:07] Speaker 1: had a good heart. Showed up to the motel with
[55:10] Speaker 1: leftover wings some nights. Never asked if I was okay,
[55:13] Speaker 1: just sat with me like nothing was weird. Then one
[55:16] Speaker 1: night Ricky said, I always thought that dude was weird.
[55:21] Speaker 1: What dude? I asked. That guy in the black SUV
[55:25] Speaker 1: came in every night for a month right before. Close.
[55:29] Speaker 1: Only ever bought a soda. Always waited until Linda was alone.
[55:34] Speaker 1: I froze. You tell the cops? He nodded. Yeah. Said
[55:39] Speaker 1: he paid cash. No receipt. But I remember his face.
[55:43] Speaker 1: Beard like it was painted on. Smelled like cologne and tire. Rubber.
[55:48] Speaker 1: I asked Detective Nguyen. They ran footage from the lot.
[55:51] Speaker 1: Sure enough, black SUV. Same time. Every night. Sometimes parked
[55:56] Speaker 1: out back where the cameras didn't reach. Linda never mentioned him,
[55:59] Speaker 1: never even hinted. Phone records turned up a Toronto number.
[56:04] Speaker 1: Called almost every night. She told me she was checking
[56:07] Speaker 1: in with our niece. We don't have a wife, niece
[56:11] Speaker 1: in Toronto. I thought about that life insurance policy, the withdrawals,
[56:17] Speaker 1: the note, and something cracked inside me that hadn't cracked
[56:22] Speaker 1: since my dad died. Six months after she vanished, I
[56:27] Speaker 1: got a call from Detective Anguian. His voice was tighter
[56:30] Speaker 1: than usual. She's alive, Frank. I had to sit down.
[56:35] Speaker 1: Toronto police had pulled over a speeding BMW just outside
[56:38] Speaker 1: the city. The driver's license was fake. Fingerprints told the rest.
[56:43] Speaker 1: Linda Kowalski. My wife. My partner. My everything. Passenger seat.
[56:49] Speaker 1: A 28-year-old guy named Damien Kroll. Matched the black SUV
[56:53] Speaker 1: from the Domino's lot. Turns out he used to work
[56:57] Speaker 1: at a tire shop a few blocks from the plaza.
[57:00] Speaker 1: Guess that's where the rubber smell came from. She drained
[57:03] Speaker 1: our account and disappeared. planning her exit with the same
[57:06] Speaker 1: hands that used to count tips and fold laundry next
[57:09] Speaker 1: to mine. She'd funneled cash into fake accounts, forged documents,
[57:14] Speaker 1: created a whole new name. They found over $ 200, 000 in
[57:19] Speaker 1: her new account. She didn't run because she was scared.
[57:23] Speaker 1: She ran because she'd planned it. I asked Nguyen, did
[57:28] Speaker 1: she say anything? He paused, said she felt trapped. Said
[57:33] Speaker 1: you were stuck in the past and she wanted more.
[57:36] Speaker 1: Said she tried to leave you something. That note. A
[57:40] Speaker 1: sorry crumpled in the garbage. People in town stopped making
[57:45] Speaker 1: eye contact after the news broke. They all assumed I
[57:48] Speaker 1: must have driven her away. Maybe hit her, maybe worse.
[57:52] Speaker 1: Ricky was the only one who didn't flinch. Just brought
[57:55] Speaker 1: me a large two-topping and said, I still think she's scum.
[58:00] Speaker 1: I laughed for the first time in months. Did I
[58:03] Speaker 1: still love her? I don't know. I loved someone once.
[58:08] Speaker 1: I just don't know who she really was. And that's
[58:11] Speaker 1: the worst. Part. Now I deliver pizzas for the new
[58:15] Speaker 1: owner of the dominoes I once built from the ground up.
[58:18] Speaker 1: They don't know who I am. Or they pretend not to.
[58:21] Speaker 1: Half the pay. Double the shame. I park behind that
[58:26] Speaker 1: same plaza every night. Same alley. Same cracked pavement. Sometimes
[58:31] Speaker 1: I think I hear her laugh in the wind. I
[58:34] Speaker 1: still drive the old Buick. Still. Where my wedding ring?
[58:38] Speaker 1: Mateo's diner burned down last week. Someone scrawled where's Linda
[58:43] Speaker 1: on the dumpster behind it. People don't forget here, they
[58:46] Speaker 1: just whisper. Some nights I call her old number. It's
[58:49] Speaker 1: been disconnected for months. But the voicemail still plays. You've
[58:55] Speaker 1: reached Linda. Leave a slice, I mean a message. I
[58:59] Speaker 1: always listen to the whole thing. I never leave a message.
[59:04] Speaker 1: I don't know if I'm hoping she'll call back, or
[59:06] Speaker 1: if I just want to hear her voice one more time,
[59:08] Speaker 1: untouched by lies. I don't sleep much, these days. Motel
[59:13] Speaker 1: mattress has a dip in the middle like it's holding
[59:15] Speaker 1: me down. I keep thinking about the last time she
[59:18] Speaker 1: looked me in the eye. She hugged me, said, you
[59:22] Speaker 1: go home, like she meant it. And I did. God
[59:26] Speaker 1: help me, I did. Trust is built over decades. but
[59:30] Speaker 1: can be broken in a moment. Sometimes the person you
[59:34] Speaker 1: trust the most isn't your partner. They're just the one
[59:37] Speaker 1: who knows exactly where to hurt you. Watch for the
[59:40] Speaker 1: little things. Love deeply, but protect yourself too. Because betrayal
[59:46] Speaker 1: doesn't always come loud. Sometimes it leaves quietly after closing
[59:51] Speaker 1: shift with the keys in the cash. Long before I
[59:58] Speaker 1: ever stepped foot inside that Domino's on Portage in Maine,
[1:00:02] Speaker 1: life had already been unraveling in quiet, inconvenient ways. My
[1:00:07] Speaker 1: name's Liam Carter, and if you'd asked me a year
[1:00:09] Speaker 1: ago what I'd be doing now, delivering Uber Eats in
[1:00:13] Speaker 1: a dying Corolla with a slipping transmission and empty bank account,
[1:00:17] Speaker 1: wouldn't have been my answer. I was supposed to be
[1:00:19] Speaker 1: making it as a freelance graphic designer, building brands, designing campaigns,
[1:00:24] Speaker 1: maybe even landing a steady contract. But invoices went unpaid,
[1:00:28] Speaker 1: clients ghosted, and rent didn't care about excuses. After my girlfriend,
[1:00:34] Speaker 1: left back in September, said she needed someone present, the
[1:00:38] Speaker 1: silence in my one-bedroom downtown apartment started echoing louder. I
[1:00:43] Speaker 1: began filling it with work. Double shifts, gig apps, anything
[1:00:46] Speaker 1: to distract me. I told myself things would get better.
[1:00:50] Speaker 1: I said that every night, especially when I couldn't afford heating.
[1:00:55] Speaker 1: That night in late November was colder than usual. Winnipeg. Gold.
[1:01:00] Speaker 1: Where the air cuts through your clothes and makes you
[1:01:02] Speaker 1: taste metal. I had just finished a brutal 13-hour stretch
[1:01:05] Speaker 1: delivering through snow and black ice. All I wanted was
[1:01:09] Speaker 1: something hot and cheap before heading home to crash. Domino's
[1:01:12] Speaker 1: was still lit up like always. That faint neon glow
[1:01:16] Speaker 1: in the corner window promising some comfort. Inside it was
[1:01:21] Speaker 1: almost empty. Just the smell of grease, the hum of
[1:01:24] Speaker 1: warm ovens, and a woman behind the counter. Becca, I
[1:01:27] Speaker 1: later learned. She was sharp. Not just in how she
[1:01:30] Speaker 1: carried herself, but in her eyes. Alert. Scanning. Like someone
[1:01:35] Speaker 1: who'd seen things she didn't talk about. I barely looked
[1:01:38] Speaker 1: up when I ordered a $ 7. 99 two-topping special. I was
[1:01:42] Speaker 1: busy scrolling my phone, trying to ignore the hike in
[1:01:45] Speaker 1: my knuckles from the cold and the endless stack of
[1:01:48] Speaker 1: overdue invoices in my inbox. Then she said it. Hey,
[1:01:52] Speaker 1: you drive that beat-up gray Corolla near the dumpster? I
[1:01:55] Speaker 1: looked up, caught off guard. Yeah, why? I just saw
[1:02:00] Speaker 1: some guy open the door and get in. Everything froze.
[1:02:05] Speaker 1: I didn't wait for a receipt. I bolted out the door.
[1:02:09] Speaker 1: The night air slapped me across the face, knocking the
[1:02:12] Speaker 1: tired out of me. My boots skidded on the black
[1:02:15] Speaker 1: ice near the curb as I rounded the back of
[1:02:17] Speaker 1: the building, heart thudding. There it was. My Corolla. Door
[1:02:22] Speaker 1: cracked open. Interior swallowed in shadows. The one street lamp
[1:02:26] Speaker 1: above flickered like it couldn't decide whether to help me
[1:02:29] Speaker 1: or not. I crept up slowly, adrenaline burning through the fatigue.
[1:02:33] Speaker 1: My laptop bag was on the back seat. If that
[1:02:36] Speaker 1: was gone, it was over. Months of projects, clients, files.
[1:02:42] Speaker 1: I hadn't backed up yet. Not to mention my only
[1:02:45] Speaker 1: source of work. From ten feet away, I couldn't tell
[1:02:48] Speaker 1: if anyone was inside. I stepped closer, squinting through the dark.
[1:02:54] Speaker 1: The driver's seat looked empty. I reached for the door handle. Then,
[1:02:59] Speaker 1: I heard the shuffle. Something moved in the back. Not
[1:03:03] Speaker 1: a big sound, but enough to turn my insides to ice.
[1:03:06] Speaker 1: I backed off, handshaking, as I reached for my phone
[1:03:08] Speaker 1: and dialed 911. My voice came out tight and breathless.
[1:03:13] Speaker 1: Someone's in my car. He's going through my stuff. Dispatch
[1:03:17] Speaker 1: was quick. told me to stay back, said a patrol
[1:03:20] Speaker 1: unit was close by. I stood behind a pile of
[1:03:23] Speaker 1: slushy snow, phone to my ear, eyes locked on my
[1:03:26] Speaker 1: own car like it was a crime scene on TV.
[1:03:30] Speaker 1: My breath came out in white bursts. I could almost
[1:03:33] Speaker 1: feel my freelance life slipping through that cracked door. Within minutes,
[1:03:38] Speaker 1: two cruisers pulled in, blue lights washing the dominoes in
[1:03:42] Speaker 1: eerie color. The officers, Patel and Green, stepped out fast.
[1:03:46] Speaker 1: hands already at their belts. Green motioned for me to
[1:03:50] Speaker 1: stay where I was, and the two of them approached
[1:03:52] Speaker 1: the Corolla, flashlights drawn. What happened next still replays in
[1:03:57] Speaker 1: slow motion. Green. Opened the back door and in a
[1:04:04] Speaker 1: sudden burst a figure lunged out. Thin, pale, wild-eyed. He
[1:04:08] Speaker 1: slammed into me hard enough to knock me back into
[1:04:10] Speaker 1: the snowbank. I gasped. Wind knocked out of me as
[1:04:14] Speaker 1: Patel gave chase down the alley. green checking if i
[1:04:17] Speaker 1: was hurt i couldn't speak just pointed at my bag
[1:04:21] Speaker 1: still on the seat somehow it was still there the
[1:04:25] Speaker 1: cops called it a crime of opportunity marcus doyle a
[1:04:29] Speaker 1: name they knew well local guy late 20s lost to
[1:04:32] Speaker 1: meth and cold nights had a string of break-ins and
[1:04:35] Speaker 1: petty thefts on record never violent just desperate they found
[1:04:39] Speaker 1: no weapons but they couldn't catch him either he vanished
[1:04:42] Speaker 1: into the winnipeg alley maze like he knew it better
[1:04:44] Speaker 1: than home Inside, Becca poured me a hot coffee without asking.
[1:04:51] Speaker 1: Rough night, huh? She said, eyebrows raised. I nodded, still shaken.
[1:04:56] Speaker 1: You don't even know. She handed me the cup, then
[1:05:00] Speaker 1: gave a little half smile. Actually, I do. Saw a
[1:05:04] Speaker 1: guy try to break into a Honda. Last month. Punched
[1:05:07] Speaker 1: the window with his bare hand. Lost more blood than
[1:05:10] Speaker 1: he gained. I let out a breath. Thanks for saying
[1:05:14] Speaker 1: something if you hadn't. Yeah, people don't always pay attention,
[1:05:19] Speaker 1: she said. Or they do and don't care. We sat
[1:05:23] Speaker 1: in that silence for a moment. I clutched the coffee
[1:05:27] Speaker 1: like it was keeping my pulse steady. The officers took
[1:05:30] Speaker 1: my statement at a booth in the back, then left
[1:05:33] Speaker 1: with a promise to keep an eye out. Back in
[1:05:36] Speaker 1: my car, I noticed the glove box was wide open. Insurance, registration,
[1:05:42] Speaker 1: all gone. Useless to him probably, but dangerous for me.
[1:05:47] Speaker 1: My name. My address. Just out there now. Driving home,
[1:05:52] Speaker 1: I kept checking my rear view. I knew it was paranoia,
[1:05:55] Speaker 1: but the thought that Marcus might show up again, at
[1:05:58] Speaker 1: my place maybe, felt real. The streets were empty, but
[1:06:04] Speaker 1: my mind wasn't. The heater coughed, blew lukewarm, air to
[1:06:09] Speaker 1: still better than nothing. Sleep didn't come easy that night.
[1:06:13] Speaker 1: Every sound in the hallway made me flinch. I ended
[1:06:16] Speaker 1: up jamming a chair under the doorknob like a scene
[1:06:18] Speaker 1: from a movie. But there was no second break-in, no
[1:06:22] Speaker 1: phone call, no dramatic follow-up. Just the next morning, gray
[1:06:27] Speaker 1: and dull and full of errands. First, stop was Manitoba
[1:06:34] Speaker 1: Public Insurance to start the replacement paperwork. Next came changing
[1:06:38] Speaker 1: the locks on my apartment door, just in case. It
[1:06:42] Speaker 1: wasn't cheap. None of it was. I drained what little
[1:06:45] Speaker 1: was left in my checking account and watched the overdraft
[1:06:48] Speaker 1: line blink red. Freelance jobs kept piling up, unpaid and half-promised.
[1:06:54] Speaker 1: I followed up on a logo design I'd sent to
[1:06:56] Speaker 1: a boutique agency. They ghosted me. Again. The evening, I
[1:07:03] Speaker 1: drove to a client meeting in St. Boniface. On the way,
[1:07:06] Speaker 1: the transmission slipped twice. The Corolla jerked like it was
[1:07:10] Speaker 1: trying to cough up a lung. I clenched the wheel
[1:07:12] Speaker 1: tighter each time. I thought about Becca more than once
[1:07:16] Speaker 1: that day, not in a romantic way, just with appreciation.
[1:07:21] Speaker 1: If she hadn't spoken up, if I'd waited five more
[1:07:23] Speaker 1: minutes in that line. Later that week, I came back
[1:07:27] Speaker 1: to that Domino's, not for pizza, but to say thanks again.
[1:07:32] Speaker 1: She waved me off, said, just keep your doors locked,
[1:07:34] Speaker 1: city kid. It stuck with me, how something so small,
[1:07:38] Speaker 1: someone paying attention, someone giving a damn, had kept me
[1:07:42] Speaker 1: from losing everything. It's been three weeks since that night.
[1:07:47] Speaker 1: I still check my locks twice. My new registration came
[1:07:51] Speaker 1: in the mail yesterday. I tucked it in the glove box,
[1:07:54] Speaker 1: then locked that too. Just a habit now. The Corolla's
[1:07:59] Speaker 1: dying faster by the day. I hear the gears whine
[1:08:02] Speaker 1: when I take corners. I'm saving for repairs, but the
[1:08:05] Speaker 1: savings account is more aspiration than reality. Becca and I
[1:08:10] Speaker 1: chat sometimes when I swing by for pizza. Nothing deep,
[1:08:13] Speaker 1: just how cold it is or how dead the streets feel.
[1:08:17] Speaker 1: But I notice how her eyes never stop. Moving, always scanning.
[1:08:23] Speaker 1: I haven't seen Marcus since. Neither have the cops. I
[1:08:27] Speaker 1: imagine he's either found another car, another alley, or didn't
[1:08:31] Speaker 1: make it through one of the colder nights. Me, I'm
[1:08:34] Speaker 1: still juggling freelance gigs and food delivery. Still trying to
[1:08:39] Speaker 1: stay afloat. But I'm more alert now. Not just about
[1:08:43] Speaker 1: the streets, but about people. About listening. Because sometimes the
[1:08:48] Speaker 1: difference between disaster and survival is a single sentence. A
[1:08:52] Speaker 1: woman behind the counter saying, you might want to check.
[1:08:56] Speaker 1: That's all it takes. And that's the thing I keep
[1:08:58] Speaker 1: returning to, over and over again. and over some people
[1:09:03] Speaker 1: watch the world happen others keep it from falling apart
[1:09:07] Speaker 1: a little attention can save a life in a world
[1:09:10] Speaker 1: where everyone's distracted being present being aware can be the
[1:09:15] Speaker 1: difference between loss and survival sometimes The real heroes are
[1:09:20] Speaker 1: the ones who simply pay attention. They say you hit
[1:09:27] Speaker 1: rock bottom slowly, like drowning in molasses. For me, it
[1:09:31] Speaker 1: started with a song, or rather the silence that followed.
[1:09:34] Speaker 1: My band, Second Harbor, broke up six months ago after
[1:09:37] Speaker 1: our third gig in Manchester bombed. We'd put our savings
[1:09:41] Speaker 1: into recording gear, a van, merch. I took a loan
[1:09:45] Speaker 1: from a guy named Garrick. A real quiet type with
[1:09:47] Speaker 1: tattoos on his fingers and eyes that didn't blink enough.
[1:09:51] Speaker 1: When we split, so did the money. Guess who was
[1:09:54] Speaker 1: left holding the bag? I've been working nights at Domino's
[1:09:57] Speaker 1: in Grimsby. Ever since. The place is sad. Under a
[1:10:03] Speaker 1: flickering neon sign that makes everything outside look like an
[1:10:06] Speaker 1: old VHS tape. My flat's right above a kebab shop.
[1:10:10] Speaker 1: Grease stains the walls. And the fan outside my window
[1:10:13] Speaker 1: never stops whining. Life became a loop. Deliver, eat, sleep.
[1:10:19] Speaker 1: Avoid Garrick. That night, October 30th, 2023, started like any other.
[1:10:27] Speaker 1: Cold drizzle, empty streets. My hands reeked of dough and sanitizer. Dave,
[1:10:32] Speaker 1: my manager, was cleaning the dough trays when he tossed
[1:10:36] Speaker 1: me one last delivery ticket. I glanced at the time, 11.45 p.m.
[1:10:42] Speaker 1: Out by the docks, he said, 47 Wharf Lane. Tips
[1:10:45] Speaker 1: in already. Just drop it and clock out. I hesitated.
[1:10:50] Speaker 1: Wharf Lane was a dead zone. Last I heard, the
[1:10:53] Speaker 1: fish market down there caught fire two years ago. No
[1:10:56] Speaker 1: one went there. No one lived there. But the bonus
[1:10:59] Speaker 1: was good, and I needed the money. My rent was late,
[1:11:04] Speaker 1: and Garrick had called me earlier that day, just breathing,
[1:11:07] Speaker 1: saying nothing. I grabbed the pizza bag and keys. The
[1:11:15] Speaker 1: streets were fog-thick. My Honda's heater barely worked, and the
[1:11:19] Speaker 1: GPS spun like it was guessing. Something felt wrong. But
[1:11:24] Speaker 1: I went anyway. Grimsby's docks at night feel like something
[1:11:28] Speaker 1: left behind by the world. Warehouses with missing roofs, seagulls
[1:11:33] Speaker 1: screaming into... nothing. Puddles that smell like bleach and regret.
[1:11:38] Speaker 1: I followed the GPS, turning off the main road and
[1:11:41] Speaker 1: onto Wharf Lane, though no sign said so. Just rusted
[1:11:44] Speaker 1: fences and overgrown weeds. The location took me to a
[1:11:49] Speaker 1: derelict warehouse. Windows boarded up. No cars. No doorbell. Just
[1:11:56] Speaker 1: one crooked streetlight buzzing like a dying fly. I pulled
[1:12:00] Speaker 1: up and double-checked the receipt. 47 Wharf Lane. The place
[1:12:05] Speaker 1: looked dead 20 years ago. I called the number listed
[1:12:09] Speaker 1: on the order. No. Answer. I sat there, engine running,
[1:12:13] Speaker 1: fingers drumming the steering wheel. I told myself it was
[1:12:17] Speaker 1: just a prank. Some teen messing around with the app.
[1:12:20] Speaker 1: Maybe Dave would comp me for gas. Then I heard it.
[1:12:24] Speaker 1: A tap. Light. Like knuckles brushing fabric. I turned. A
[1:12:31] Speaker 1: woman stood by my window. She wore a raincoat with
[1:12:35] Speaker 1: the hood. Pulled low, shadows swallowing her face. Her hands
[1:12:39] Speaker 1: hung at her sides too long like arms drawn out
[1:12:41] Speaker 1: in a dream. That for me? She asked. Her voice
[1:12:46] Speaker 1: sounded wet. like something caught between a whisper and water
[1:12:49] Speaker 1: trickling through old pipes. Yeah, I said. 1450. She reached
[1:12:56] Speaker 1: into her coat and pulled out a stack of crumpled,
[1:12:58] Speaker 1: damp one-pound notes, the paper soggy and stained dark in places.
[1:13:03] Speaker 1: They smelled like old fish left in the sun. I
[1:13:06] Speaker 1: took the money without looking at it too hard. You'll
[1:13:09] Speaker 1: deliver for me again, she whispered, her fingers brushing my wrist. Cold, rough,
[1:13:15] Speaker 1: too strong. I yanked away, dropped the pizza in her
[1:13:19] Speaker 1: hands and walked backwards to my car she didn't follow
[1:13:23] Speaker 1: she just watched smiling i drove back faster than i
[1:13:28] Speaker 1: should have my tires slipped once on a patch of
[1:13:31] Speaker 1: oil slick road i didn't care i needed to be
[1:13:35] Speaker 1: gone back under familiar street lights i didn't even look
[1:13:39] Speaker 1: back until i hit the roundabout near the industrial park
[1:13:41] Speaker 1: i checked my mirror she was gone I parked behind
[1:13:46] Speaker 1: Domino's and staggered inside. Dave was already locking up. He
[1:13:50] Speaker 1: raised an eyebrow. That Wharf Lane run? He asked. Yeah,
[1:13:56] Speaker 1: I said, keeping my voice even. Weird spot. Didn't even
[1:14:00] Speaker 1: know people lived out there. Dave shrugged. They don't. I blinked.
[1:14:06] Speaker 1: But the ticket? He waved it off. You sure you
[1:14:09] Speaker 1: read it right? No Wharf Lane in the system. We
[1:14:12] Speaker 1: haven't delivered out there in months. I checked my app log.
[1:14:17] Speaker 1: The order was still there. D-2417-47 Wharf Lane, paid online
[1:14:23] Speaker 1: plus $ 50 tip. The receipt even printed from the kitchen.
[1:14:28] Speaker 1: He leaned over my phone, squinting. Huh, glitch maybe. I
[1:14:34] Speaker 1: didn't argue. I just clocked out, took my keys, and left.
[1:14:40] Speaker 1: That night, back in my flat, I opened the envelope
[1:14:43] Speaker 1: of cash she gave me. The bar bills were dry now, crisp, normal.
[1:14:49] Speaker 1: But the smell, old salt and rot, clung to them
[1:14:52] Speaker 1: like smoke. I washed my hands three times. It didn't help.
[1:14:57] Speaker 1: When I tried to sleep, the wind rattled my window.
[1:15:01] Speaker 1: I woke up around 3 a.m. to a soft, steady tapping. Tap, tap,
[1:15:05] Speaker 1: tap like fingernails on glass. I froze. I lived two
[1:15:10] Speaker 1: floors up. I didn't look. I just lay there, eyes wide, Listening. Tap, tap, tap. Then... Nothing. Silence.
[1:15:21] Speaker 1: Thick as sleep. The next day I brought the security
[1:15:26] Speaker 1: footage to Dave. I needed to prove I wasn't losing it.
[1:15:29] Speaker 1: I pulled it up on his backroom computer. The camera
[1:15:32] Speaker 1: pointed at the delivery lot. We watched together in silence.
[1:15:37] Speaker 1: There was my Honda. Headlights cutting through. Fog. Me getting
[1:15:41] Speaker 1: out with the pizza bag. Then... Nothing else. No woman.
[1:15:47] Speaker 1: No coat. No transaction. No one touched me. Just me
[1:15:52] Speaker 1: walking to the warehouse, then rushing back white-faced as if
[1:15:56] Speaker 1: I'd seen something that wasn't there. Dave leaned back, in
[1:16:01] Speaker 1: his chair. Maid, there's no one with you. My mouth
[1:16:05] Speaker 1: felt dry. She was right there. Maybe it was the fog.
[1:16:10] Speaker 1: Maybe you imagined her. Or maybe... He trailed off. What?
[1:16:17] Speaker 1: Dave scratched his jaw. This place. These docks. People say
[1:16:22] Speaker 1: they're full of ghosts. Or worse, just folks who never
[1:16:25] Speaker 1: really left. I went home early. My phone buzzed that night.
[1:16:31] Speaker 1: Your tip from Wharf Lane Delivery has been processed. Fifty dollars. Clean.
[1:16:35] Speaker 1: No record in the order history. I thought about going
[1:16:38] Speaker 1: to the police. But what? Would I say? A ghost
[1:16:43] Speaker 1: gave me fish money and left no trace. Instead, I
[1:16:46] Speaker 1: tried to forget. I blocked the number. Burned the cash.
[1:16:51] Speaker 1: Didn't sleep for two nights straight. Then on the third night,
[1:16:53] Speaker 1: I came home to a note taped to my door.
[1:16:56] Speaker 1: Next order's ready. Same time. You'll deliver again. No name.
[1:17:02] Speaker 1: Just an address. 17 Saltburn Row. It wasn't in the
[1:17:06] Speaker 1: Domino's system. But part of me knew I was going.
[1:17:11] Speaker 1: Whether I wanted to or not I tried to quit.
[1:17:14] Speaker 1: Told Dave I was done with night shifts. He laughed.
[1:17:18] Speaker 1: You didn't clock in last night, he said, but we
[1:17:20] Speaker 1: still paid you. What? Check your account. I did. Another
[1:17:26] Speaker 1: $ 50 bonus. My hands trembled. I drove out to Saltburn Row,
[1:17:32] Speaker 1: not because I wanted to, but because some part of
[1:17:34] Speaker 1: me had to. Like I was already halfway there before
[1:17:37] Speaker 1: I decided. The house was barely standing. No lights. Just
[1:17:42] Speaker 1: a rotting, Roof and door hanging off the frame, she
[1:17:44] Speaker 1: was waiting outside, same coat, same voice. You remembered, she said.
[1:17:49] Speaker 1: I didn't speak. I handed her the bag I didn't
[1:17:53] Speaker 1: remember packing. This time, she didn't smile. Next time, she whispered,
[1:17:59] Speaker 1: bring more, I'm still hungry. I ran. I didn't turn back.
[1:18:05] Speaker 1: I didn't sleep that night or the next. Now, every
[1:18:09] Speaker 1: few weeks, a new address appears in my inbox. The
[1:18:12] Speaker 1: orders aren't real, but the money always shows up. I
[1:18:15] Speaker 1: don't clock in. Domino's doesn't question it. But I go.
[1:18:19] Speaker 1: Because when I don't, the tapping starts again. Always three knocks.
[1:18:25] Speaker 1: Always after midnight. Some debts you repay with money. Others
[1:18:30] Speaker 1: with pieces of yourself. Trust your instincts because not all
[1:18:34] Speaker 1: jobs are worth the paycheck and not every customer is alive.

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