Eyes at the Window by Deb Donahue

that transported her back to her father’s youth. Totally engrossed, she read them all with her mouth agape with wonder. Her ears were ringing; her breath came in rapid gasps.
    “Oh my God, Rufus,” she exclaimed. “Listen to this!” She read a passage out loud that talked about the fact that the farm had belonged to her grandfather’s family for three generations, and at one time used to be three times the acreage she now owned. “Three generations!” Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck. Rufus whined and took a step or two away from her.
    Her great-grandfather had required three full-time farmhands and several seasonal workers to plant, harvest and manage the livestock. Temporary bunks had been set up in the barn loft to accommodate the hired help.
    That fact brought to mind once again the movement she’d seen in the high window, and the unease it caused her. At that very moment, a sudden blaze of light startled her so much she jerked and dropped all the letters to the floor. She’d been so engrossed in the stories the letters told that she hadn’t noticed the evening light fade to deep yellow. The flash of light had been one last ray of sunset striking one of the bay windows.
    Immediately Miranda’s sense of wonder twisted into terror. Her heart pounded and sweat beaded her forehead. Breath, breathe, she told herself. There was still a little light outside and a lantern at her side. The calming exercise didn’t help however. She began to feel nauseated, her stomach churning. Shadows seemed to dart across the room and her nerves jumped just as erratically. The windows looked like square eyes looking in at her.
    “Curtains. Oh my God, there’s no curtains.” Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? Miranda scrambled to her feet
    She had not come across any drapes as she unpacked, but she did have a pile of the dusty sheets that had been used to cover the furniture. Standing on the window seat, she managed to drape them over the curtain rods. She closed the doors to the hallway, front room and study, and lit so many candles on the kitchen counter their glow overflowed into the dining room as well.
    When she covered the last kitchen window, she peeked outside. There was enough residual twilight that she could still see the white garage and red handled well spigot. There were no storm clouds tonight, however, and some stars already pierced the sky. Soon the moon would be up to make things even brighter. But every shadow looked like the shape of a man lurking, waiting.
    Rufus began snuffling at the lintel, scratching and looking at her like he wanted to go out. She worried for a moment about the stray dog she’d seen earlier, but decided since he hadn’t posed a threat before, he probably would not harm Rufus now, so she opened the door to let him out.
    While she waited at the open door for his return, she flicked the porch light switch on, off, on and off again over and over, as if doing so would make the electricity turn on. “Stupid power company,” she said viciously. Rufus ran back in the door, skirting sideways and looking at her warily.
    Locking the door behind him, she made the rounds of the ground floor again, making sure all the interior doors and windows were locked. There was no lock on the door leading to the basement however, and she knew there was a way to get into it from the outside. They could get in that way, creep up the stairs while she was sleeping. Murder her in her sleep!
    She could see the outside door at the bottom of the stairs by shining a flashlight, but couldn’t tell if the lock was snubbed shut or not. Taking one of the lanterns with her, she headed down, stopping at each stair tread to listen with her heart in her throat. Finally when she reached the bottom, she saw that the door to outside was firmly locked shut. Relief washed over her.
    Holding the lantern up high, she looked around the main room at the bottom of the stairs. The walls and floor were cement and there