Cash on Delivery: The Neighbor Next Door Snapped Chapter 2

The next day, I set my alarm for five-thirty. It was still dark when I woke. I didn’t turn on the lights. I crept to the door and peered through the peephole. The hallway was pitch black, save for the faint green glow of the emergency exit light in the distance. I waited patiently.

At five forty-five, I heard the familiar footsteps of the milkman and the gentle clinking of glass bottles. The sound echoed clearly in the hallway. The milkman stopped at my door, opened the milk box, placed the bottle inside, and closed it. Then, he moved on to the next apartment.

I waited until his footsteps faded, silently counting to ten. Then, I yanked the door open.

The doorway was empty.

The milk box was empty too.

I froze. How was that possible? I’d been watching through the peephole the entire time. I hadn’t seen anyone approach. I immediately checked my phone. The camera app hadn’t registered any motion detection alerts. I double-checked the app settings – everything was fine. I pulled up the recording for that time slot. The screen was completely black. Nothing.

I understood then. She knew the camera’s blind spots. She must have come from the other side of the stairs, crouching low, staying out of the camera’s view. Then, she'd silently taken the milk. I even suspected she might have been waiting, hidden around the stairwell, ready to act the moment the milkman left. That’s how she managed to do it all before I even opened my door.

A chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t just petty theft. This was a pathological obsession. She was going to great lengths for this bottle of milk. Calculating timings, routes, perhaps even mapping out my daily routine. How could I, a young woman constantly working overtime, possibly outwit a retired woman who dedicated all her cunning to this?

That afternoon, leaving work, I ran into her in the elevator.

“Skylar, back from work?” she greeted me with a warm smile, her face radiating kindness. She held a basket of groceries.

“Oh, Mrs. Davison, off to buy groceries?” I forced a smile.

“Yes, going to make something nice for your Uncle Tom tonight.” She looked at me, her eyes full of grandmotherly concern.

I looked at her smiling face. I couldn't reconcile it with the masked, stealthy figure from the early hours of the morning. This kind of person… she was terrifying.

I decided to give up on trying to outsmart her. Confronting her directly still felt wrong. What if she made a scene, crying and collapsing? I’d never be able to explain myself. Call the police? For a bottle of milk, the officers would just mediate.

I thought and thought. I wasn’t trying to prove she stole my milk. I just wanted to drink the milk I paid for. If her target was the milk in the box, then I’d just make sure there was no milk in the box.

I pulled out my phone and found the milk company’s customer service number. I had one more option. My last option.