Page 12 of The Intruder

“How are you doing with the storm?”

“Still dry.” I glance over in the direction of my bedroom—I can just barely make out the window, which is now being pelted with rain. The glass shakes under the assault of the relentless wind. “You didn’t go around the back of my house to check out the roof after we talked, did you?”

“No. Why?”

So it wasn’t Lee and it wasn’t Rudy. So who was lurking by my bedroom window? “Never mind.”

“Listen, Casey,” he says. “I was listening to the radio, and this storm is much worse than they expected. There are going to be wind gusts up to sixty miles per hour. And I’ve been thinking… I’m starting to agree with you that the roof might not be safe. I don’t want you to get killed tonight, for Christ’s sake.”

Yeah, me neither. But it’s not like Rudy cares. He just doesn’t want to be liable for my death due to his negligence.

“So I’ve been calling around,” he continues, “and I finally found one bed-and-breakfast that’s got an opening for the night. I booked you a room.”

“Oh great.” I’m not thrilled about having to run out in the rain, but it’s going to get a lot worse over the course of the night, and it’ll be safer to get out of here. “What’s the address?”

Rudy’s reply is a long string of static.

“Rudy?” I say. “You’re breaking up…”

“Casey?” His voice sounds a million miles away. “Can you…me?”

I press the phone against my ear, trying to make out his words. “A little. Just tell me the address of the bed-and-breakfast.”

“It’s…”

And then the phone line goes dead.

I put down the receiver, wait for a second, then pick it up again. There’s no dial tone. The phone lines are down, probably for the night.

Even though I expected the phone lines to go out, this was the worst possible moment. Rudy is not a worrywart, and if he thinks it’s not safe for me to be here, then I could be in serious danger. Except what am I supposed to do now? If my house isn’t safe, I’m even less safe in my truck, wandering the flooded roads, searching for a hotel. I could easily lose control of the truck on the slippery dirt roads and either get stuck or crash.

The other option is to try to make it out to Lee’s cabin. It’s a little over half a mile, although it’s not like half a mile of city blocks. It’s half a mile through a path in the woods, where the trees are swaying dangerously and everything that hasn’t been pinned down is flying through the air.

No, at this point, it’s better to stay put.

I only hope I survive the night.

9

My pasta sauce is almost ready.

It smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles. I was never much of a cook, but since I’ve been living out here, I’ve learned to make some delicious sauces that just take some time and love to develop. If I am killed tonight when the roof falls on my head, this will be a great last meal.

The rain is coming down hard. The raindrops have coalesced so that it almost looks like someone is pouring buckets of water over my house. I watch in fascination as I dip my wooden spoon into the sauce and take a taste.

It’s almost perfect, but it needs something.

Oregano, maybe. My father used to say that whenever an Italian sauce needs something extra, oregano usually does the trick. I reach for the small shaker on my spice rack just as something catches my eye outside the window.

Earlier in the evening, I thought I saw a face at my bedroom window, but I convinced myself it was the moon. I tend to be the sort of person who is always looking over my shoulder, so I try not to go overboard with those suspicions. Then I saw some movement outside my toolshed and convinced myself that it was a rabbit or branches blowing in the wind. But now I see something that makes me realize that I have made a very incorrect assumption.

There’s a light shining outside. It’s coming from my shed.

I drop the wooden stirring spoon onto the counter, splattering tomato sauce in a two-foot radius. I convinced myself the other two things were my eyes playing tricks on me, but even with the heavy rain obscuring my view, this light is unmistakable. Why is there a light on in my toolshed? I don’t even have a light bulb in there or any power source, so how could there be light? There’s only one possible way.

Somebody is inside. And they have a flashlight.

My legs tremble beneath me. There is somebody in my toolshed. I can’t even pretend that it could be a bunny…or a bunny and a deer cuddling together. There is a person in there. And I don’t know why or what they want.