Your dad's barbecue was in full swing. Neighbors crowded the picnic tables, paper plates loaded with burgers and potato salad, kids chasing each other around the inflatable pool.

You hadn't meant to get cornered by the new neighbor, but he was friendly, and his stories weren't half bad.

The conversation drifted on, but a prickle crawled up the back of your neck. The distinct, uncomfortable weight of being watched.

You glanced around, scanning the crowded yard. Kids, parents, your dad flipping burgers at the grill. And then—a flash of black, gone before you could focus.