 The stranger was walking down the quiet, rural street, dressed in a suit and tie. It was midnight. I'd just gotten home from a night out with friends when I saw the stranger shuffling past my house. Hey buddy, you alright? I said from the front porch. The stranger ignored me and kept walking. I briefly considered shrugging off the oddity and heading indoors, but I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. I know most of the people who live along the road. Some are even relatives, so I couldn't in good conscience ignore my gut. I climbed back into my car, thinking it would be a good barrier between the stranger and me if he were to try anything, and took off in pursuit. He hadn't gotten far when I rolled up to him, cracked the passenger window, and asked, you okay? The stranger was drenched in sweat and staring distantly through fogged glasses. He looked to be in his early 40s, maybe younger. Sir, I said, did your car break down somewhere? Without looking at me, the man quietly answered, no. Are you staying nearby? There was a momentary pause followed by another quiet, no. I kept my car rolling at the stranger's pace, observing his shaking hands. He appeared anxious, whether that was because of me or something else, I do not know. But his behavior did nothing but give further cause for concern. Do you need me to call someone? No. I watched him quietly for another moment, then asked him something that every fiber in me opposed. Do you need a ride? The man stopped walking. I pressed on the brakes and came to a halt beside him. He stood silent, his chest puffing in and out with each breath, then turned only his head and said, no. He turned his gaze back to the road ahead and continued walking. I did not follow. To put my mind at ease, I hurried back past my place and over to my cousins. She lives only three houses down from me. Usually she and her family are in bed around 10 or so, but this time I was surprised to find that the lights were still on. I went up to the door and knocked a couple of times. Her husband, Dan, carefully cracked the door, saw that it was me, then relaxed. Hey, Scott. Hey, Dan, I said, looking at the shotgun hanging by his side. Something got you spooked? Dan sighed. A little. Come on in. I stepped inside. Where's Katie? I'm right here. Katie whispered as she crept out of the kids room and quietly shut the door. What are you doing here so late? Well, I scratched the back of my head. There's a guy dressed in a suit and tie walking down the road. An acting kind of strange came from this way. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Dan and Katie exchanged glances. Then Katie said, I think he might have been over here earlier. What do you mean? I was in the backyard with the dogs, letting them do their business before bed. When I heard whistling whistling, yeah, like a person whistling a tune. I glanced over at Dan and he nodded, you know, we got that fence back there now so that the dogs don't wander off so I couldn't see anyone, but I could hear that they were moving right along the perimeter of the fence. A chill ran through me. Did the dogs freak out? That's the weirdest part. They didn't. They bark at just about anything any other time. This time, they just continued sniffing the grass like the whistling wasn't even happening. What did you do? I ran inside and told Dan and he went outside and looked. I searched the whole yard and didn't see anything. Dan added, did you check the road? Yep, walked down to the end of the driveway and looked both ways, nothing. You think it might have been a bird? Katie shook her head. No way. This was a person. Maybe we should call the cops. I said, Katie and Dan agreed and Dan pulled out his cell phone and called 911. We gave the dispatcher the stranger's description and they told us they'd send a unit to check it out. I'm going to get in my car and see if I can't find him. I said after Dan hung up, don't do anything stupid, Scott. Katie begged. I'm not. I just want to get eyes on him. I headed over to the door and Katie stopped me. Why don't you stay here tonight? I turned and smiled. I'll be all right, plus I got to go let the dog out. Bring him over here with you, she said. I hugged Katie and stepped out to the car. I'll call you when I see him. I said, Katie didn't argue any further and waved goodbye. Once I reached my house, I once again continued past in search of the stranger. It was reasonable to assume he'd be well down the road by then, but I ended up driving much further than he would have gotten on foot without even finding the slightest hint of him. Instead, I found the deputy. I slowed down next to his car and rolled down my window. A mustached deputy looked back at me. I told him we'd been the ones who'd called and that the stranger didn't seem to be on the road anymore. The deputy said he'd keep looking and then we parted ways. Wasn't much else for me to do but go home. So I did just that. I pulled up the gravel driveway, shot off the car and headed inside. Opening the door spooked the dog, it usually does, but his barking subsided when I flicked on the lights. Hey boy. I said, petting him. I held the door open and let him run outside to wet the grass. I stood beneath the starlit sky watching the dog sniff the earth. When I heard a whistled tune coming from behind the house, it carried through the air like a wind-swept song, but this was a night when the trees were still and there wasn't a breeze to be felt. The melody became clearer and floated around the house, seemingly to my side. It was indiscernible human and the dog did not bark. I hurried the dog inside, grabbed a baseball bat I kept by the door and went around the house tense and ready to swing. Every shadow seemed a trespasser that night, every falling branch and rustling leaf, every hooting owl and chirping cricket, hopping rabbit and creeping raccoon. But none of it was the stranger in the suit. I'd called Katie after I heard the whistle and told her as much, said the deputy was out looking. But by morning it became clear that the stranger was never found and that was that. For so we'd thought, Mr. Weston lived two houses down from me and for as long as I can remember had been a paraplegic wheelchair bound and all alone. Mr. Weston was the last person you'd expect to hang himself. But two days after we'd heard the whistling, Mr. Weston was found hanging from a tree behind his house that he undoubtedly could not have reached on his own. Detective said he looked like he'd been hanging there for a couple of days. It doesn't end there. Two houses down from Mr. Weston's place lived a young man and his wife, both healthy as could be. Coast Guard veterans, the two of them, spent a lot of time in the water and despite all that, they were found dead in their bathtub the day after Mr. Weston was found hanging from a tree, drowned. And maybe you guessed, but from the looks of it, they'd been in there for about three days. There's a commonality we discovered since then. Of those of us along the road who are still living, someone in their household heard the whistling that night. They heard it. They investigated and they found nothing. Could it be that the three who died never heard the whistling? I don't sleep well anymore. Too afraid I will miss the whistled tune. A whistle no dog hears. A warning they cannot give.