The phone rang before sunrise, breaking the gentle stillness of my home. Danny’s name appeared on the screen, filling me with sudden worry. He never called at that hour unless something was wrong. When I answered, his voice trembled like he was holding back tears. “Grandma… please don’t wear your red coat today,” he said softly.
I looked toward my bright red coat hanging by the door, the one I wore every morning. It was warm, cheerful, and easy to spot in the fog. But the fear in Danny’s voice made me pause. He wouldn’t warn me like this without a real reason. So I listened and reached for my old brown coat instead.
At nine o’clock, I walked to the bus stop expecting an ordinary morning. But instead, I saw flashing lights cutting through the gray fog. Police cars lined the street, and a quiet crowd watched from the sidewalk. Sheriff Brennan stepped toward me with concern in his eyes. “Alexia… someone was found here wearing a red coat just like yours,” he said gently.
A cold shiver ran through me as everything connected at once. Danny’s call, his trembling voice, his desperate warning. I told the sheriff what happened, and his expression grew serious. Whatever Danny knew had guided me away from danger that morning. And in that moment, I realized his call didn’t just worry me—It saved me.