Taking cover in the darkened second-floor front room, Patrice peered through the window at the McKenzie home. She gripped the arms of an upholstered chair and moved it from its place at the window.

"Can I help you with that chair?" Mr. Washington asked. "I know it's heavy."

"I got it. Thanks." She set the chair in the corner. She bumped into the dresser, accidentally toppling a framed photo. She righted the photo of a college girl wearing a graduation cap and gown.

"That's our girl, Samantha." Mr. Washington smiled proudly.

The room reminded Patrice of her old bedroom at her parents' house, a refuge from the outside world from the time she started grade school until she ventured off to college. Her mom had slowly transformed the room into a spare bedroom adorned with artifacts of Patrice's childhood, photos, awards, and keepsakes.

Sadie bounded up the staircase agitated and barking at Patrice.

"Sadie, get over here," Ms. Washington commanded from the doorway. "Shut your yap."

Patrice opened the blinds a crack. "Thank you for allowing me in your home. This is a big help."

Ms. Washington's voice trembled. "We'll do anything to help."

Patrice put the binoculars to her eyes, focusing on the second-floor window across the street. The McKenzie's blinds were drawn and the room was dimly lit. A vague silhouette of one figure was visible, apparently backlit by the hallway light.

"What's going on over there?" said Mr. Washington.

"There's an intruder."

"Oh, my God!" the woman gasped.

Her husband stopped at the window, squinting at the house across the street. "Someone's over there in the house with them? Why don't you go over there and arrest them?"

"We believe the man is mentally unstable. We're concerned what he might do if he's confronted."

"Those poor girls." Ms. Washington's voice cracked.

"Is there anything else we can do?" her husband asked.

"Let me keep the lights off in here." She flashed a polite smile. "And could you turn off the hallway light?"

Ms. Washington hit the dimmer switch and the hallway faded to black.

"I'm gonna monitor the situation from here. When the police get here, they may come through your backyard." She paused. "Do you have family or friends nearby where you can stay for a few hours? As a precaution?"

"Our daughter lives in the North Hills."

"We'd appreciate you not providing too much information," Patrice said, gesturing toward the McKenzie house. "Maybe tell them there's a gas leak in the neighborhood. Something like that."

Patrice glanced at Sadie. "If you can keep your dog quiet, that would be so great."

"I could take her down the basement," said Mr. Washington.

"We could take her with us," said his wife.

Patrice tilted her field glasses downward and watched her partner, Lloyd come around the side of the McKenzie's house near the garage. He looked up at her and shrugged.

"Where's her husband?" she whispered to herself.

........

Walter looked over his shoulder toward Kelsey's desk. "Where does she keep her things?"

"Her things?" Skyden jerked a tissue from the box on the desk, pressed it to her hand to stem the bleeding.

"Her girl things."

She shrugged. In Walter's muddled mind that could have meant any number of things.

"Don't make fun of me." Three sharp grimaces. "I don't like that. You want me to cut you again?"

She shook her head.

"I'll do it if you don't stop." He looked up at her with a cold glare, his pupils half-hidden by his thick frames.

She'd hoped to find a flicker of humanity there but found nothing remotely human. Her shoulders tensed. "You mean like her makeup and–"

"And her hairbrush and the things she needs to make her look pretty. How many times do I need to explain this?"

"It's super dark in here," she said. "I can barely see."

He gave her a surprised look like he just noticed she was in the room. "Turn on that light on the desk. That one. Over there."

Skyden advanced cautiously. When she came around the corner of the bed she saw Walter's frayed canvas shoulder bag on the floor and wondered what else he may have brought along. "When is she going to wake up?"

"Soon." He pointed the blade at her. "Stop trying to distract me. It won't work. Turn on that light."

Skyden reached across the desk and flipped the switch. The desk light illuminated an area near the window with an oblong yellow shape. A glint of light streaked across the box cutter blade.

In the dim light, without a hint of remorse, he watched the blood trickling down Skyden's forearm. He glanced down at Kesley. "She's not pretty now. Make her look right. Make her look the way... you know how to do it."

With her mind racing, Skyden opened the desk drawer and found a few eyeliner pencils and tubes of lipstick, cosmetics her daughter seldom used.

"Where's her comb? Or hairbrush?" A sloppy grin slid across his face. "You need to put that in her hair. Like you used to." He gestured to the back of his head, indicating a ponytail.

Now that she was closer to Walter, Skyden noticed dark patches of sweat on his sweater and winced at the stench of his stale perspiration. She heard his short, choppy breaths, sensing that at any moment the unbearable situation could erupt into something so much worse.

Kelsey's eyelids fluttered and she moaned.

"Hurry up!" He gripped the box cutter tightly. "We don't have much time."

Skyden sucked in a breath. She opened the second drawer, the handle nearly coming off in her hand. With the drawer partially open, she noticed the handle of the screwdriver.

"It's our anniversary," Walter said. "We can pretend it is. It's a special occasion." He rubbed his nose. "She needs to be beautiful. Make her beautiful."

"She is beautiful. She's always been beautiful." Skyden felt the tears rolling down her cheeks before she realized she was crying. "You've already hurt her. Enough is enough."

"Okay. Maybe this isn't gonna work out." His jaw tightened and then the grimaces came in rapid succession. "Is that what you're telling me?" He raised the box cutter. "That our anniversary means nothing! Nothing at all?"

"What anniversary?" Her voice shook. "What are you even talking about?" Her face flushed with fear and desperation. If she could shepherd him a little further from the bed, further away from Kelsey, she could risk attacking him with the screwdriver despite the box cutter in his hand. But now with only one good hand, and her daughter unable to run, the risk was too great.

"The fourth. November the fourth."

"It's not November."

He shouted, "I said we'll pretend! You're not listening to me. You're making me mad. If you're not gonna help me... you want me to do it?"

"No."

"Is that your answer?" He gestured with the weapon in his hand. "You're either gonna help me or you're in my way. Are you gonna help me?"

"Yes."

He kept jabbering, swinging the blade in small arcs, giving her no time to think things through. "Huh? You're not gonna help?"

"Yes, I will. I'll help."

"Don't lie to me. I hate liars." He bent his knees, crouching lower, pointing the blade up toward her face.

She backed away, her hands trembling so severely she needed to steady them against her thighs, leaving a pale bloodstain on her pants. "Tell me about November fourth. I forgot."

"I never forget the fourth of November. You came to my house. You brought me that card that said 'Get well, Walter.' On the fourth of November."

"I remember that. I do. Megan and I came to your house," she said softly. "Megan Conway."

He stiffened at Megan's name.

"You remember Megan, don't you, Walter?"

He stared like he was looking right through her.

Skyden said, "The whole class was worried about you, Walter."

"No, they weren't. They didn't care."

"They all signed the card. You'd been away from school for such a long time."

"November the fourth. But you didn't see me."

"Your mother said you were too sick for visitors."

"That's a lie!" He shouted.

"She said she would give you the card."

"You're lying. And you're making me mad." His twisted face grew red and his mouth twitched three times in succession. "You're making me very, very angry."

Kelsey's eyes opened for only a moment. She uttered a groggy whisper, "Mom."

Skyden instinctively rushed for the bed. Walter blocked her advance with his bony shoulder and the collision drove them both into the desk. The lamp toppled and the yellow light swept across the window blind, the ceiling, and the wall in a dizzying spiral.