It was the same image as always but this time the object moved. Or he did. He couldn’t be sure. The thing grew brighter and larger, a soft breeze crossed his face giving him the sense of great speed.
Then the voice. Coming from everywhere. And nowhere. Coming from inside his chest. Like wind transformed into speech. Whistling. Harsh.
He’s here. He’s come for your daughter.
“Who?” Jack cried out. “Who’s here?”
You can’t beat the devil, Jack. You have to run!
Jack turned around and saw his bedroom far behind him, like a photograph hung on the opposite side of the room. He turned back toward the glowing object. “Who are you?”
RUN!
Jack bolted up in bed, his shirt clung to his torso with cold sweat. There was a noise from downstairs. He threw off the covers and swung his legs around to the side of the bed. The burst of adrenaline in his system shocked him awake before his feet touched the ground. He pushed the dream aside, grabbed the Louisville Slugger and ran to the door. Downstairs, Buddy barked and snarled like a junkyard dog clawing at a chain fence. There was the noise again. A deep, bass sound beneath the dog’s high-pitched yelp.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Buddy’s snarls broke into a new level of frenzy. Jack paused at the top of the stairs. The cold metal weight of the Louisville Slugger in his hands felt suddenly inadequate. As much as he was against guns, he cursed himself for not having a real weapon in the house.
He looked to his left down the hall toward the girls’ rooms. He shook his head and tried to think through the options. The noise was downstairs. Buddy was downstairs. The threat had to be down there, probably still outside. And there was only one way up from the lower level. So whatever Buddy saw had to come through him first to get to the girls.
Armed only with his home run swing, Jack stepped down the stairs.
Halfway down, Jack could see into the great room. Though the lower windows of the room were curtained, the windows on the second story were uncovered. Enough moonlight filtered in so that he could make out the broad outlines of the room’s furnishings.
Jack crouched on the steps and peered through the spindles of the stair rail. He mentally cataloged every dark shape, sure that one of them would move and charge toward him or rise up just as a telltale flash of light signaled a bullet was on its way. But all the shadows stayed in place. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Except Buddy’s relentless barking and snarling, almost insane now, like an animal caught in a trap.
Jack wiped the sweat from his hands and regripped the bat. Buddy was by the front door. Whatever was going on had to be there. He didn’t like leaving the stairway unguarded. If someone was in the house, the stairway was the only way to get at his family. As long as he stayed there no one could get by. But he had to find out what was going on at the front door.
He moved off the stairs and crept through the hall leading to the entryway. Buddy raged at the front door, his barking echoing off the walls.
Outside. It has to be outside.
The entryway was dark but Jack could make out Buddy’s hulking shadow at the far end of the entryway. The dog was right next to the door, his tail tucked between his legs. Jack walked forward on the balls of his feet, the bat held in front of him. As he came closer to the door, the other sound he’d heard became clearer.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The front door. Someone was outside trying to break it open. It sounded like a battering ram against the thick wood door. More than a fist. Or even a foot. Whoever was on the other side had to be throwing their whole body at the door to make it shake so hard. And they didn’t give a damn about the dog on the other side.
Buddy leapt at the door, clawed at it, his paws churning the air.
Again and again, the heavy wood door banged and shook in its frame.
Jack reached out and flipped a switch. The entryway flooded with light, forcing Jack to cover his eyes until they corrected themselves. When he lowered his hand, he saw Buddy also frozen in place by the sudden swath of light. Dog and master met eye to eye. The communication was clear. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The door had stopped shaking.
Buddy snarled and leapt toward Jack. With a jolt the dog was choked back and the door behind him shook from the force.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Jack stared at the door. One end of a thick leather leash was tied to the door handle, the other end wrapped around the dog’s neck. The door had shaken because Buddy was tied to it. There wasn’t someone trying to break down the door. Someone was already in the house.
THIRTY-ONE
Jack turned and sprinted back through the hall. He took the stairs three at a time.
“SARAH! BECKY!”
The girl’s rooms were at the end, one next to the other. Becky’s room was first. He flung the door open.
A little voice came out of the dark, “Da-Daddy?”
Jack flipped on the light switch. The room’s bright primary color scheme jumped out at him. Clown faces painted on the walls stared at him with dead expressions. Meant as happy decorations, they were sinister now, their mouths bent into strange sarcastic smiles, eyes too narrow and intense. Jack half-expected one of them to peel itself off the wall and race him to Becky’s bed.
Becky clutched a pillow to her chest and looking up at him with wide eyes. “You O.K.?” Becky nodded. “All right. Stay right here. Stay in bed. I’m going to check on your sister.”
Jack locked the bedroom door with himself inside. The girls’ rooms were connected by a shared bathroom. He decided to go through the bathroom instead of going back into the hallway. For all he knew, the intruder could be out in the hall right now, right behind the door he just locked.
He clambered across the room, toys skittering across the floor as he kicked them out of the way. The bathroom nightlight was enough to see by. He ran through the room and threw open the door. Even before he could reach the light switch, he knew something was wrong. The room was freezing cold. Like walking into a meat locker.
He flipped the switch. Sarah’s room was a calm pink, a princess motif she picked out herself. Her bedclothes were frilly, white and pink. Under the pink blanket lay his baby girl, shivering in the cold, blue lips pressed tight against chattering teeth. Her window was wide open. Jack looked around the room. Nothing else seemed out of place. He ran to his little girl and put his warm hands against her cheeks.
“Sarah. Are you all right sweetie?” She didn’t answer. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.” He pushed back the covers and picked her up in his arms. With his one free hand, he grabbed the baseball bat. Together, they went back through the bathroom to get Becky.
The door to Becky’s room was open.
Becky was gone.
Jack lunged into the hallway. Nothing there. Still clinging on to Sarah, he rushed down the hall. “Becky! BECKY!” he shouted. “Lauren! I need your help. Where’s Becky?”
He ran into the master suite but stopped as soon as he was through the door. Lauren was asleep in their bed with Becky nestled against her. It didn’t seem possible. How could they be sleeping as if nothing was going on?