Sometimes, words spoken in the quiet of night linger in unsettling ways.
After a tense argument, our reader lay in bed and heard her husband lean close and whisper something that broke her heart. The next day, he brushed it off with an explanation, but it didn’t make things any better.
One of our readers sent us a message.
My wife and I were returning from a party at 2 AM when our car died in a remote area.
There were no mobiles then, so we waited. An hour later, a college student passed by and drove us to town.
We offered money but he said, “Happy to help.”
Years later, my wife called in tears. With a shaky voice she told me to open the news.
Turns out that student was actually a 35-year-old man who had robbed over 30 people in forests and abandoned areas, targeting drivers late at night.
I had chills when I saw that he had been wanted by the police in several states.
His methods were chillingly clever—he’d either pretend to be a lost hiker to hitch a ride or pick people up in his own car.
We offered money but he said, “Happy to help.”
Years later, my wife called in tears. With a shaky voice she told me to open the news.
Turns out that student was actually a 35-year-old man who had robbed over 30 people in forests and abandoned areas, targeting drivers late at night.
Maybe it was because there were two of us, or perhaps because I was tall and muscular,
which might have intimidated him.
Whatever the reason, we were incredibly lucky to have walked away unharmed.
