I look around the bathroom for some kind of weapon. There isn’t much damage you can inflict with a loofah.
I hear the footsteps, so soft outside the door. I hear them stop. I see the shadow. I know if I kneel down and look underneath the door, I could probably see shoes, but I’m too scared to move.
And what if I bend down to look, and someone is bending down at the other side of the door, looking at me?
That thought sends such terror through me that it makes me move. I lunge toward my pants hanging on the hook on the back of the door. My cell phone is in the pocket.
I punch out Joe’s number. Why didn’t I ever put him on speed dial?
Because I never thought I’d need him so fast.
I get his voice mail, but I pretend he picks up. If I can hear the person’s footsteps, the person can hear me.
“Joe! Joe! There’s someone in the house. I hear them. Come right away! You’re already on your way over? Oh, hurry. Don’t use the siren, maybe you can catch them…”
I hear the footsteps retreating. Fast.
That’s when my knees give way, and I fall on the floor. I feel myself shaking and I can’t stop.
I can’t get up. The floor is so cold.
The phone rings next to my hand. “Gracie! Gracie!”
It’s Joe. He must have picked up on his voice mail.
“Joe, someone is here. Please, hurry.”
“I’m on my way. I’m close. Is the intruder still there?”
“I…I don’t know—”
It is as long as forever, but I hear footsteps in the house, and I know it’s Joe. I realize I’m lying on the floor in a towel, and I struggle to my feet and get into my clothes as fast as I can.
Joe knocks on the door. “Gracie, open it. It’s me. No one’s here.”
I open the door. My knees are shaking, and I fall into his arms while he fires questions at me, and I’m trying to talk, and he’s gently sitting me down on the hall floor.
“This is where he died, Joe,” I tell him. “This is where Billy was killed.”
He frowns, not wanting to believe me. “Are you sure someone was here? There’s no sign that someone broke in—”
“I didn’t lock the door. I never lock the door. I didn’t imagine it, Joe!”
“No, I don’t think you did.”
Joe is looking past my shoulder. It is clear in the light from the living room lamp. A muddy footprint outside the bathroom door.