I watched the live feed with my stomach in knots. Roger Bennett was crouched at our front door while his wife, Sandra, stood behind him holding something small and dark. Then I realized what he was doing. He was working on our lock, calmly and confidently, until he straightened and pushed the door open. Sandra followed him inside our locked house as though they belonged there. The door had never been forced. Roger had a key—a key we had never given anyone.

My hands shook as I tapped the two-way audio. “Roger,” I said through the camera. Both froze. Sandra looked toward the lens while Roger quickly smiled and claimed they had seen a flickering light and were checking on the house. But I had watched him open our door. I hung up and called the police. When the officers arrived, the Bennetts were gone. But downstairs, they discovered something that made my blood run cold: our hidden basement room had been turned into a secret storage space, filled with boxes, keys, and detailed notes about our neighbors.