saw something move in his daughter’s room. At first, he thought he might have woken her up, but the shadow moving toward her bed was far too big to be either her or Carly.
The windowsill was probably five feet off the ground, and Richard was shocked when his attempt to vault through it succeeded and he found himself slamming down painfully on top of Susie’s open toy chest. The loud crash caused the man hovering over her to spin around, an object in his hand glinting briefly in the dim light before it dropped and he reached for something at his side.
Richard rolled gracelessly off the chest, managing to land on his feet and launch himself toward the figure. Susie shrieked as he and the man collided, and Richard felt something impact the top of his skull. The butt of a pistol. He had a gun!
The blow was hard enough to collapse his knees but not hard enough to stop him from swinging a fist upward toward the man’s stomach. At the last moment, though, a more effective target presented itself, and he drove his knuckles into the man’s groin with the same adrenaline-fueled power that had gotten him through the window.
A satisfying grunt filled the room, but the gun barrel kept swinging inevitably toward his face.
Then he was blind. For a moment, he thought the gun had gone off, but there was no sound. It took another split second to realize that Carly had turned on the lights and that the gun was still coming at him. He got hold of the man’s arm but then took a blow to the side of the head that drove him the rest of the way to the ground.
The man was shading his eyes with a gloved hand, so it was impossible to see his features—only his short black hair and wiry build beneath a windbreaker and jeans. What was clear, though, was that this time there was nothing Richard could do about the pistol lining up on him.
He put his hands up reflexively and waited for the impact of the bullet, but it never came. Carly jumped across their screaming daughter’s bed and slammed into the man with enough force to spoil his aim but not enough to knock him to the ground. He grabbed her throat and held her suspended as Richard fought to get back to his feet.
It had been a good try, but he realized that all she’d done was delay the inevitable and doom herself too.
Then Richard spotted the object the man had dropped on the carpet. A syringe.
He grabbed it and sunk it into their attacker’s khaki-covered thigh, using the last of his strength to push down the plunger.
A surprised yelp rose above his daughter’s wails just before Carly’s full weight landed on top of him.
Again, the gunshot he anticipated didn’t come. The man staggered to the open window and fell through it, landing with a muffled thump in the dirt below.
Richard pushed his dazed wife off him and crawled to a position where he could peek over the sill, spotting the man running unsteadily across the yard, syringe still dangling from his leg. It fell into a patch of weeds just before he squeezed through the hole in the fence and disappeared into the darkness.
Richard slammed the window and shut the curtains, turning to see Carly untangling their trembling daughter from her sheets.
“The police!” he shouted. “Call the police!”
His wife looked back at him, eyes still wide with panic, and then ran from the room.
“Susie!” he said, grabbing his daughter by her delicate shoulders. “Listen to me. Calm down. Are you hurt? Did he stick you with anything?”
10
Outside Baltimore, Maryland
April 18
“Do you mind?” Richard said, leaning out his daughter’s bedroom door and eyeing a uniformed cop pawing through the linen closet in the hall. “He wasn’t after my pillowcases.”
“We’re just trying to be thorough,” a voice behind him said. “Is there some reason you would have a problem with that? Maybe afraid of what we’ll find?”
Richard turned back to see Detective Timothy Sands staring out Susie’s bedroom window, his face
The windowsill was probably five feet off the ground, and Richard was shocked when his attempt to vault through it succeeded and he found himself slamming down painfully on top of Susie’s open toy chest. The loud crash caused the man hovering over her to spin around, an object in his hand glinting briefly in the dim light before it dropped and he reached for something at his side.
Richard rolled gracelessly off the chest, managing to land on his feet and launch himself toward the figure. Susie shrieked as he and the man collided, and Richard felt something impact the top of his skull. The butt of a pistol. He had a gun!
The blow was hard enough to collapse his knees but not hard enough to stop him from swinging a fist upward toward the man’s stomach. At the last moment, though, a more effective target presented itself, and he drove his knuckles into the man’s groin with the same adrenaline-fueled power that had gotten him through the window.
A satisfying grunt filled the room, but the gun barrel kept swinging inevitably toward his face.
Then he was blind. For a moment, he thought the gun had gone off, but there was no sound. It took another split second to realize that Carly had turned on the lights and that the gun was still coming at him. He got hold of the man’s arm but then took a blow to the side of the head that drove him the rest of the way to the ground.
The man was shading his eyes with a gloved hand, so it was impossible to see his features—only his short black hair and wiry build beneath a windbreaker and jeans. What was clear, though, was that this time there was nothing Richard could do about the pistol lining up on him.
He put his hands up reflexively and waited for the impact of the bullet, but it never came. Carly jumped across their screaming daughter’s bed and slammed into the man with enough force to spoil his aim but not enough to knock him to the ground. He grabbed her throat and held her suspended as Richard fought to get back to his feet.
It had been a good try, but he realized that all she’d done was delay the inevitable and doom herself too.
Then Richard spotted the object the man had dropped on the carpet. A syringe.
He grabbed it and sunk it into their attacker’s khaki-covered thigh, using the last of his strength to push down the plunger.
A surprised yelp rose above his daughter’s wails just before Carly’s full weight landed on top of him.
Again, the gunshot he anticipated didn’t come. The man staggered to the open window and fell through it, landing with a muffled thump in the dirt below.
Richard pushed his dazed wife off him and crawled to a position where he could peek over the sill, spotting the man running unsteadily across the yard, syringe still dangling from his leg. It fell into a patch of weeds just before he squeezed through the hole in the fence and disappeared into the darkness.
Richard slammed the window and shut the curtains, turning to see Carly untangling their trembling daughter from her sheets.
“The police!” he shouted. “Call the police!”
His wife looked back at him, eyes still wide with panic, and then ran from the room.
“Susie!” he said, grabbing his daughter by her delicate shoulders. “Listen to me. Calm down. Are you hurt? Did he stick you with anything?”
10
Outside Baltimore, Maryland
April 18
“Do you mind?” Richard said, leaning out his daughter’s bedroom door and eyeing a uniformed cop pawing through the linen closet in the hall. “He wasn’t after my pillowcases.”
“We’re just trying to be thorough,” a voice behind him said. “Is there some reason you would have a problem with that? Maybe afraid of what we’ll find?”
Richard turned back to see Detective Timothy Sands staring out Susie’s bedroom window, his face
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