Wrong House

I had recently moved back in with my parents, who lived in a wooded area away from the main roads. I was sitting on the couch drinking coffee while my daughter played on the floor. We were the only people home.

I walked into the kitchen and saw a man approaching along the road. People rarely walked there unless they lived nearby, so I watched him. He stopped in front of a neighbor’s house and stared at it, then repeatedly looked over his shoulder. I quietly went to the entryway and locked the front door.

The man continued watching the neighbor’s house, then moved forward and stopped at our driveway. My daughter was still watching television in the living room. I retrieved a firearm from a back room and watched the man from a window while keeping out of sight. I called emergency services, explained that I believed someone might try to break in, and gave them the address. They told me to keep the doors locked and said someone was on the way.

I put the phone in my back pocket with the call still connected. A few moments later, there were three loud thumps on the front door. I walked to the window beside the door and opened it while pointing the firearm at the man. He stepped back and said, “Oh, wrong house.” I replied, “Yeah, wrong house,” and kept the firearm trained on him.

He stared at me for what felt like a very long time, then turned around and walked away. I could still see him when officers arrived, so I pointed him out. They detained him and later said they found drugs, two knives, and cash in his pockets. They believed he had not come to the wrong house by accident.

The most frightening part was how deliberately he had approached, watched the neighboring house, moved to our driveway, and then knocked repeatedly after I had locked the door. I never learned what he intended to do, but I am certain that he was not simply lost.