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countdown. “Five, four, three, two—”
    “Claire, I’m calling the police!”
    “And there it is.”
    “Claire!”
    “In the kitchen! And keep your voice down,
Ashley is sleeping.”
    “We have to call the police.” He was already
reaching for the phone.
    “Wait! Why do we have to call the police?
What’s wrong?”
    “Come look. No, wait. I have to check the
house first. Lock the door and get your gun.”
    “Mike, what the hell?”
    “Just trust me please. Where’s the gun?”
    “In my room, but—”
    “Go get it.”
    “Fine. Just...fine. But you had better have a
damned good reason for this,” I warned as we strode down the
hallway where the bedrooms were located.
    “I do.”
    “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what
it is,” I grumbled.
    “In a minute. First, let’s secure the
house.”
    “You first.” I waved him out of my bedroom
doorway. He started at the back of the house, methodically checking
each room, Rambo-style. Next he checked the living room and the
den, and finally, the bedrooms, saving Ashley’s room for last.
    “Oh, no. You are not going in her room.”
    “I need to check her bedroom,” he argued with
a hard edge to his voice.
    “Well, I don’t want you taking that gun in
there. If she wakes up and sees that, it will terrify her.”
    “You’re right. You take it. Keep it where you
can get to it quickly.”
    I took the weapon and tucked it into the
waistband of my jeans as we crept into her room. We peered into the
closet and behind the door. Mike even looked under her bed.
    “Mommy?”
    “Shh…go back to sleep,” I whispered.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Everything is fine, sweetie. Your uncle Mike
is just acting like a nut-job. Go back to sleep.”
    “Okay. Hi, Uncle Mike,” she murmured
sleepily.
    “Hi, honey. Go to sleep now, you’re safe.” He
need not have worried, her eyes were already drifting closed as we
shut the door.
    “Okay, we’ve checked out the entire house.
Now what in the hell is going on?” I demanded.
    “Come outside and take a look for yourself.”
He led the way out the front door and around the side of the house,
stopping just outside of Ashley’s window.
    “Look at the grass by the hedges.”
    “Mike, you said yourself that could have been
an animal.”
    “And look up here, at her window.” He swung
the flashlight up to about chest level to the windowsill. The blood
rushed to my head and a metallic taste filled my mouth. Scratches
bore into the smooth white trim of the window, around the bottom,
and halfway up the windowpane near the lock.
    “What…?”
    “Look at the glass, Claire. Right there.” The
light switched to both sides of the window in turn, and I gasped
when I noticed the handprints.
    “Oh my God.”
    “Someone tried to get into this window.”
    Long moments ticked by as the implications
struck home. We stared at each other; anger and dread met and
held.
    “I’m calling the police,” I announced.
    ***
    “So you didn’t actually see anyone leaving
the yard?”
    “No, not exactly. I saw a shadow, and some
movement, but no, I can’t say for sure if it was a man or not.”
    “Why do you refer to the alleged as a
man?”
    “How many women do you know that lurk about
and try to break into houses in the night?”
    “You would be surprised, ma’am,” Officer
Jones informed me. I disliked him instantly and I was pretty sure
the feeling was mutual. He had a cocky air about him that I didn’t
find one bit appealing. Or reassuring. I got the impression that we
were little more than a case number to him. It was a lot like
talking to one of those automated phone systems you had to wade
through in order to get a live person.
    “Is there anyone you know who would be angry
with you, or want to hurt you or your family?”
    “Yes.” I sighed.
    “Yes?”
    “Unfortunately, several people come to
mind.”
    “Old boyfriends? Co-workers?”
    “No. Old bosses. You must be new.” I rubbed
my eyes. “Last year,