Chapter 17
Oh my God. Somebody’s breaking into our house.
I told Elliot we needed a landline. He said it was a waste of money, but if we had a landline, I’d be able to call the police right now. Of course, if my husband got home from work at a reasonable hour, we wouldn’t have this problem. He’d be home, protecting me. Like he’s supposed to do.
I don’t know what to do. My first instinct is to go into Bobby’s room and make sure he’s okay. But there’s no lock on Bobby’s door, so if I go in there, we’re both sitting ducks. And there’s no way I am waking Bobby up so he can freak out.
No, my best bet is to get to my phone. I’ve got to call the police.
I quickly throw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and my slippers. I open the door to the bedroom quietly and listen for sounds downstairs to give me a sense of where the intruder is. I hold my breath, straining my ears.
I hear nothing.
Maybe whoever it was just grabbed my purse and left. Or maybe they heard sounds outside, got scared, and decided not to burgle me after all. Or maybe they’re lying in wait.
Fortunately, all the lights are on downstairs. So it’s unlikely somebody will be lurking around. Anyway, why would you break into a house where all the lights are on?
Hoping I’m not making a seriously stupid mistake, I make my way cautiously down the stairs to the living room.
I still don’t hear any noises to indicate an intruder.
But I do see broken glass by one of the windows.
It’s cracked with a small hole in it, like somebody threw a ball at the window and it broke.
Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe some kids were playing ball on the street, and one flew through my window. Of course, the time of day makes that very unlikely.
And then I see the rock on the floor.
Somebody threw a rock through my window.
Thankfully, I’m wearing my slippers. I creep across the floor, doing my best to avoid the glass. I bend down next to the rock that penetrated my window. It’s smaller than my fist but it did the job.
“April?”
I whirl around. Elliot is standing behind me, looking rumpled in his white dress shirt with his tie loose around his neck. He has a five o’clock shadow on his scalp.
“What happened?” His brows are scrunched together. “Is that a rock?”
“Somebody threw it through our window.” I swallow a large lump in my throat. “I was upstairs, and I heard it.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head. “What the hell? Who would do something like that?”
I shrug helplessly, not trusting myself to speak.
“Jesus,” he says again. “Should we call the police?”
“What’s the point? They’re not going to do anything.” I struggle to my feet, trying not to touch the ground because I don’t want to get glass in my hand. “Why are you home so late? You didn’t even text me.”
“What are you talking about? I texted you like twenty minutes ago to tell you I was leaving!”
Oh. Well, that could be true. I haven’t looked at my phone since I went upstairs.
I blink a few times, afraid my emotions are going to get the better of me. “I was worried about you. And Bobby kept asking for you.”
Elliot’s shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, April. Work is killing me lately. But I promise I’ll try to be home earlier from now on.”
I nod and pick up my phone from the coffee table, where I left it. Sure enough, there is a text message on the screen from Elliot, telling me he’s on his way home. And then there’s a second text message, from a blocked number:
Did you enjoy my little present, April?
I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Up until now, it was just words. Now there’s a rock in my living room and a bunch of broken glass on the floor. Somebody’s out to get me.
I only wish I knew why.