PROLOGUE

 

 

Late one December evening, the first snow of the season began to fall, blanketing the quiet neighborhood in white. Christmas lights adorning the homes gave off a warm, festive glow. As the snow piled up, children watched excitedly out their bedroom windows, hoping enough would fall so school would be cancelled the next day and their winter fun could begin.

In the house at the end of the street, a woman stood alone, eating Chinese takeout over the kitchen sink and wishing for the snow to stop. She dreaded wintertime and the slick roads it caused. She had to show up for work regardless of the weather, and her car’s tires were bald and in need of replacement. She’d be lucky to make it through the season without ending up in a ditch somewhere.

She heard a noise coming from the backyard, so she set her container of food on the kitchen counter and shuffled over to the back door. That cat of hers had better not be walking around on her potting bench again, knocking tools and empty pots onto the ground. She’d had to pick up the shards of a busted terra-cotta pot only last week.

Opening the door, she called out, “Whiskers, is that you? Come inside before you freeze to death.”

It was silent within the walls of her privacy fence; she heard not so much as a meow from Whiskers in reply. She closed the door and returned to her dinner, figuring he would soon change his mind and come crying to be let inside. A crash outside got her attention. This time, she donned a coat and boots, determined to find that stubborn cat and bring him in from the cold whether he liked it or not.

On her way out the door, she flipped the switch for the outside carriage light on the back patio, but nothing happened. She sighed to herself, making a mental note to put “change light bulb” on her endless to-do list. Stepping down onto the patio, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Visibility outside had grown worse since a couple of minutes ago. The snow was now falling fast in huge clumps.

“Whiskers, kitty-kitty. Here, kitty-kitty.” Hearing a rustling to her left, she turned and peered into the bushes near the fence. “Come on, Whiskers,” she complained, walking toward the source of the sound. “It’s freezing out—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a blinding pain exploded at the back of her head. She stumbled forward, disoriented and dizzy. Unable to keep her feet under her, she collapsed to the ground. She managed to roll onto her back and wrench open her eyes, searching for what had hit her. Black spots, bright stars, and double vision clouding her sight, she could barely make out a dark figure swooping down on her. She raised her arms to push the person away, but her movements were slow, as if she were stuck in mud.

The figure clamped two gloved hands around her neck and squeezed. She gasped for air and tried to struggle free, but her body was sluggish and her energy sapped. She cried out, but could voice nothing more than a whimper with the pressure crushing her throat. As she wheezed out her last breath, she could have sworn she heard Whiskers let out a forlorn meow from the nearby bushes.