My husband and I have our phones on silent until at least 10 a.m. on weekends. So, we’re sleeping.
Suddenly I wake up to the sound of my husband pulling on shorts and a T-shirt. Immediately the intercom rings. I ask him, “Who is it?” He replies, “Police.”
It turns out they were downstairs asking to speak with either one of us.
I sat up in bed, heart pounding, wondering what on earth could’ve happened. We hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t heard any noises during the night—nothing out of the ordinary. My husband buzzed them in and told me to stay in the bedroom just in case.
Not because we were hiding anything, but because we were still in pajamas and honestly, it just felt like the kind of situation where fewer people being involved was better. I stood near the door, trying to hear what they were saying. The officers asked him a few questions about a silver Toyota parked outside.
We didn’t own a Toyota. Ours was a blue Honda, and it was parked right where we left it the night before. Then one of the officers said, “The plates are registered to this address.” That was weird.
Very weird. My husband glanced back at me, confused. “Sir, can we come in for a minute?” they asked.
That was the moment I got dressed quicker than I ever have in my life. They stepped inside and explained that the car had been reported abandoned, partially blocking a neighbor’s driveway, and when they ran the plates, our address came up. It was stolen two nights ago from a parking lot across town, and someone had apparently switched plates.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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