‘I don’t want to press charges. I just want to forget the whole thing.’
Jacob Jones stood in the gloom of his hallway, the phone pressed to his ear. He had only just got home and the landline had been ringing as he unlocked the door. Hurrying inside, he’d snatched it up, expecting it to be his mother, who often called when Nancy was away. But it was only a follow-up call from the Chicago Police Department, after the earlier incident.
Jacob’s immediate concern was that he sounded intoxicated. He’d had three beers in quick succession – he’d needed them to steady his nerves, but now chided himself for his weakness. Putting on his professional voice, he answered the police officer’s questions soberly, making it clear that he didn’t want to take matters further. The officer seemed disappointed, not surprisingly perhaps given Jacob’s profession, but he wasn’t going to push it.
‘It’s your decision …’
‘Absolutely. And thanks again for the call. I really appreciate it.’
Jacob was a practised liar and the officer rang off happily enough, bidding him a cheery goodnight. Shaking his head at the craziness of the last few hours, Jacob replaced the receiver and belatedly shut the front door, locking it behind him. He had the place to himself tonight and was looking forward to watching the White Sox game – perhaps with another cold beer.
Dumping his bag and coat on the floor, he flicked the light switch. To his surprise, nothing happened. Just about keeping his temper – another light bulb gone – he marched into the kitchen, switching on those lights instead. But again, nothing happened and he remained in darkness. He flicked the switch back and forth – once, twice, three times – without success.
‘Jesus …’
Hurrying over to the window, Jacob peered out on to the quiet suburban street. All around him, the pretty houses twinkled, brightly illuminated from within.
‘Of course, it’s just me,’ he muttered, his resolute good humour finally evaporating.
Turning on his heel, he marched back across the hall and pulled open the door to the cellar. A flashlight hung on a hook just inside and Jacob turned it on before descending into the gloom. Dust danced in front of the flashlight beam, as he walked carefully down the rickety steps. He seldom visited the basement – and Nancy never ventured down here – and he was quite certain he’d miss the final step or stumble on some forgotten piece of junk. His work schedule was too blasted to accommodate a foolish injury, so he proceeded with caution, eventually making it to the basement floor.
He cast around for the fuse box, eventually locating it on the far wall. He made for it, dodging boxes of high-school yearbooks and mouldering sports gear, remarking to himself how large this space was. They should do something with it – an extra room could add thousands to the value of the property – but not today. Today, he just wanted to download and unwind. So, opening the fuse box, he searched for the master switch.
It was facing down, as it should be, and investigating further Jacob now realized that none of the individual switches had blown.
‘What the –?’
Was he going to have go call someone out? At this hour? Grasping the master switch, he yanked it up, held it for a second, then pushed it firmly down. Still he remained swathed in darkness. So he tried again. And again. The same result. Resting his weary head on the fuse box, he swore quietly to himself.
And now he became aware of something else. The sound of someone breathing.
It couldn’t be, could it? The house was secure, there was no sign of –
Now he heard someone coming towards him. Panicking, Jacob swung his flashlight around.
To see a man in a ski mask descending upon him.