Allan frowned, glancing past her toward the yard. The streetlamp’s glow barely reached beyond his fence, but in the dim light, he could just make out a small, indistinct shape half-buried in the snow near the bushes.
An animal, perhaps. Or something else. His stomach tightened with unease. “You’re sure it’s still there?” he asked. Madeline nodded. After thanking and sending her back home, Allan grabbed his coat and squinted through the frosted window, trying to make out the shape Madeline had seen.