"Most people aren't comfortable talking about it," was the conclusion we reached during the high heat of Summer 2015, after the so-called "Watcher"—an anonymous creeper accused of penning threatening letters to the new owners of a $1.3 million home in Westfield, New Jersey—drove the frightened family from the premises and into a lawsuit against the previous owners.

We searched high and low for the Watcher last July, after Bill Shaffer, a former-resident of the home from 1955 to 1963, suggested that the culprit might be a "local crazy who lives on the street and harasses everyone." Hours of searching turned up only heaping servings of skepticism from neighbors, the police department, and the longtime publisher of the local Westfield Leader.

But amid all of this ambiguity, there is some concrete news pertaining to the Watcher house this week, the sort of news that can be confirmed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of a courthouse clerk's office: the Watcher house is back on the market for $1.25 million.

Derek and Maria Broaddus bought the innocuous-seeming home in July 2014, and said the notes started arriving in their mailbox three days after they took up residence with their three young children. "Do you need to fill the house with the young blood I requested?" one note asked. "Have you found all the secrets it holds. Will the young bloods play in the basement. Who has the bedrooms facing the street? I will know as soon as you move in."

“Have they found out what’s in the walls yet?” he/she added. “I am pleased to know your names now, and the name of the young blood you have brought to me."

According to the Post, the Broaddus family is still suing for the full purchase price of 657 Boulevard and punitive damages. The former owners, John and Andrea Woods, have filed a motion for the suit to be dismissed, but there's yet to be a decision on that front.

The closest the Watcher got to self-identification last year was this missive: "[The house] has been the subject of my family for decades. I have be [sic] put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched in the 1920s and my father watched it in the 1960s. It is now my time."

We've reached out to the listed realtor, one Michael Buccola, to see if he has any bites yet. In the meantime, let the cryptic words echo as you scroll through the natural-light-filled rooms of this 1905 Colonial (Is that a steel refrigerator? How many fire places can you fit into 11 rooms? Did you say three and a half bathrooms?) and weigh whether a little bit of blood is really worth losing sleep over. After all, this is your alternative.