My daughter and I were walking through the shopping mall when she suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the restroom: As soon as we locked the stall door, she pointed at something and whispered, “Mom, did you see that?”

— But we’re not leaving until Dad gets here.

I called my husband and whispered everything to him. He left immediately.

We waited, holding our breath. Outside, we could hear people coming in, water running, but every sound made us jump.

When my husband finally arrived and called out to us, I opened the door, still holding my daughter’s hand.

We stepped out — and only then did we notice, on the floor near the entrance to the restroom, a dark muddy streak — the footprint of those same shoes.