Money Money Money

Finally feeling ready to tackle another day, I decided to head out and check the mailbox for our mail. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was another mystery waiting for me right outside my front door when I opened it. I froze in place, staring down at it. “What the…?”
This puzzler came complete with its own set of luggage, too.
I frowned, looking at all of those pieces, and trust me, there were a lot of them.
We had flown in from Florida, landed at Jackson Atlanta International Airport, and arrived here late last night. There was no way these bags were here when we dragged our own personal luggage across this very spot.
Wait a minute... could this be related to that blocked call I took in Florida, the one that ended with a loud gasp before hanging up on me?
I looked down again. No luggage tags, no ID indicators, nothing.
So far, I was completely perplexed by their presence.
Cautiously, I visually inspected the bags, making sure not to touch them. My fingerprints were staying exactly where they belonged—for now—on my fingers.
I will say one thing—those designer travel pieces were not cheap. All Louis Vuitton, all eighteen pieces, ranging from large to small, clustered together like they were waiting for something... or someone.
But for what?
Who in their right mind would leave high-priced luggage outside a stranger’s residence?
No one, that’s who...