PART 1

When a teenage boy knocked on my door asking if he could mow my lawn, I assumed he was simply looking for summer work. It wasn’t until I caught him inside my locked garage that I realized he’d been coming to my house for a reason he was too afraid to admit.

I signed the papers for my new house on a Thursday. By Saturday morning, I was already questioning why I’d ever thought owning a home would be relaxing. The grass reached my ankles, weeds had taken over the flower beds, and the previous owner clearly hadn’t touched the yard in weeks.

I had just carried another moving box inside when someone knocked.

A boy who looked about fifteen stood on my porch beside an old red push mower. His baseball cap was faded from the sun, his sneakers were patched, and the mower looked as though it had survived several generations.

“You the new owner?”

“I am.”

Instead of introducing himself, he looked past me at the house. His eyes moved slowly from the porch to the upstairs windows before settling on the detached garage in the backyard. He stared at it longer than anything else, and for just a second, a strange little smile crossed his face.

“Good.”

I frowned.

“Good?”

“I was hoping somebody would finally move in.”

“What do you mean?”

He seemed embarrassed.

“Nothing. Empty houses just make me sad sometimes.”

Then he nudged the mower with his shoe.

“Anyway, I’m Chase. I live with my mom over at Cedar Creek Trailer Park. I’m trying to make some money before school starts. Need your lawn done?”

“How much?”

“Twenty-five dollars.”

That was less than half what a landscaping company would’ve charged.

“I’ll give you fifty if you do a good job.”

His eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He grinned and immediately got to work.

For the next hour, I unpacked while the steady sound of the mower drifted through the windows. Every time I checked outside, Chase was still working—no phone, no earbuds, no disappearing for twenty-minute breaks. By the time he finished, my yard looked completely different.

I handed him fifty dollars.

“You don’t have to pay me this much. I said twenty-five.”

“And I said fifty.”

He stared at the bills for a moment.

“Thank you.”

As he pushed his mower away, something bothered me.

His face looked familiar.

I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before, but the feeling stayed with me long after he disappeared around the corner.

The following Saturday, Chase returned at exactly eight in the morning. He went straight to work. About an hour later, I brought him a bottle of water.

“You’ve earned a break.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rick.”

While he drank, his gaze drifted toward the garage.

“You ever been inside there?”

“Not yet.”

He seemed surprised.

“Really?”

“I’m still unpacking.”

He nodded, but something about his expression changed. The following week, I caught him standing beside the garage before he’d even started mowing, his fingertips resting lightly against the old wooden siding.

“Everything okay?”

He jerked his hand away.

“Yeah.”

“What were you looking at?”

“The garage.”

“What about it?”

He hesitated, then simply walked back toward his mower.

That became our routine. Chase arrived every Saturday, mowed the lawn perfectly, and argued whenever I paid him extra. The more time I spent around him, the more convinced I became that I’d seen his face somewhere before.

Then, about a month after I hired him, my boss canceled an afternoon meeting and I arrived home earlier than expected.

The mower was sitting in my backyard with the engine still running. One strip of grass remained unfinished.

“Chase?”

No answer.

I walked around the side of the house.

“Chase?”

Still nothing.

Then I saw the garage.

The door was open.

I stopped.

That didn’t make sense. I’d never used the garage, and its only key stayed on a hook beside my kitchen door.

A few seconds later, Chase came jogging out.

The moment he saw me, he froze.

“I didn’t hear your truck.”

“I can tell.”

I looked past him into the garage.

“How did you get in there?”

“The door was open.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It was when I got here.”

I pulled the key from my pocket.

“I’ve had this with me all day.”

His eyes shifted toward the garage.

“It was hot. I just wanted somewhere cool to sit for a minute.”

That explanation was suspicious enough.

But then he said something worse.

“You keep it locked now?”

My stomach tightened.

I’d never told Chase the garage had ever been unlocked.

“What did you just say?”

His face went pale.

“I…”

“You asked if I keep it locked now. How would you know it wasn’t always locked?”

He lowered his eyes.

“I should go.”

“Chase.”

He stopped.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, don’t come back.”

For several seconds, he stood completely still.

Then he whispered:

“I’m sorry.”

He shut off the mower, lowered the handle, and pushed it down the driveway.

He didn’t even ask for his pay.

The next Saturday came.

No Chase.

Neither did he return the week after that.

Then, three days later, I spotted him outside a grocery store climbing into a brand-new black SUV.

At first, I thought I had the wrong kid.

The faded baseball cap was gone. So were the patched jeans and worn sneakers. Chase was wearing a designer polo shirt, spotless shoes, and an expensive-looking watch.

Then he looked directly at me.

It was definitely him.

The SUV drove away before I could call his name.

And suddenly, I wondered whether everything he’d told me had been a lie.

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