Outside of Baltimore, Maryland

April 18

It was the second time Richard had run home that week. He was putting in brutal hours at the lab to try to revive his work and unfortunately, they only had one car. Or maybe it wasn’t so unfortunate. He’d been a pretty decent athlete in college and the six miles of lung-searing torture was getting him back in touch with his physical side.

He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down to protect his arms from the cold as he cut through a trash-strewn lot a few blocks from his house. He’d promised Carly he’d be home by midnight and she tended to worry when he missed his self-imposed curfews.

His stride faltered when he saw a shadow cross from his next door neighbor’s yard through the large hole in the fence that he’d been meaning to fix for months. He bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard from exertion and a sudden flair of anger.

That was it—the last goddamn time that dog was going to take a horse-sized dump in the grass where his daughter played. No more friendly reminders. No more reasoning. And sure as hell no more pleading. That mutt was going to the pound.

He crept onto the grass, trying to quiet his panting and stay in the shadows. The dog was nearly as old and fat as its owner, but he wasn’t exactly Speedy Gonzales either anymore.

The fit was tight, but he managed to get through the hole and slip into his backyard. Empty.

Endless years in school, countless academic awards, two PhDs…And he’d been outsmarted by a dog. Again.

Richard started to skirt the house on the way to the front door, but stopped when he noticed the screen from Susie’s open window lying in the dirt. Yet another thing that needed fixing.

He padded over and was about to reach for it when he saw something move in his daughter’s room. At first, he thought he might have woken her up, but the shadow moving toward her bed was far too big to be either her or Carly.

The windowsill was probably five feet off the ground and Richard was shocked when his attempt to vault through it succeeded and he found himself slamming down painfully on top of Susie’s open toy chest. The loud crash caused the man hovering over her to spin around, an object in his hand glinting briefly in the dim light before it dropped and he reached for something at his side.

Richard rolled gracelessly off the chest, managing to land on his feet and launch himself toward the figure. Susie shrieked as he and the man collided and Richard felt something impact the top of his skull. The butt of a pistol. He had a gun!

The blow was hard enough to collapse his knees, but not hard enough to stop him from swinging a fist upward toward the man’s stomach. At the last moment, though, a more effective target presented itself and he drove his knuckles into the man’s groin with the same adrenaline-fueled power that had gotten him through the window.

A satisfying grunt filled the room but the gun barrel kept swinging inevitably toward his face.

Then he was blind. For a moment, he thought the gun had gone off, but there was no sound. It took another split second to realize that Carly had turned on the lights and that the gun was still coming at him. He got hold of the man’s arm but then took a blow to the side of the head that drove him the rest of the way to the ground.

The man was shading his eyes with a gloved hand, so it was impossible to see his features—only his short black hair and wiry build beneath a windbreaker and jeans. What was clear, though, was that this time there was nothing Richard could do about the pistol lining up on him.

He put his hands up reflexively and waited for the impact of the bullet, but it never came. Carly jumped across their screaming daughter’s bed and slammed into the man with enough force to spoil his aim but not enough to knock him to the ground. He grabbed her throat and held her suspended as Richard fought to get back to his feet.

It had been a good try, but he realized that all she’d done was delay the inevitable. And to doom herself too.

Then Richard spotted the object the man had dropped on the carpet. A syringe.

He grabbed it and sunk it into their attacker’s khaki-covered thigh, using the last of his strength to push down the plunger.

A surprised yelp rose above his daughter’s wails just before Carly’s full weight landed on top of him.

Again, the gunshot he anticipated didn’t come. The man staggered to the open window and fell through it, landing with a muffled thump in the dirt below.

Richard pushed his dazed wife off him and crawled to a position where he could peek over the sill, spotting the man running unsteadily across the yard, syringe still dangling from his leg. It fell into a patch of weeds just before he squeezed through the hole in the fence and disappeared into the darkness.

Richard slammed the window and shut the curtains, turning to see Carly untangling their trembling daughter from her sheets.

“The police!” he shouted. “Call the police!”

His wife looked back at him, eyes still wide with panic, and then ran from the room.

“Susie!” he said, grabbing his daughter by her delicate shoulders. “Listen to me. Calm down. Are you hurt? Did he stick you with anything?”