A paw poking me in the mouth woke me up a few hours later. Nemo’s claw control was never that great, but when he was trying to wake me up, I swear he was extra careful to let just the tips of his claws poke my lips. I startled awake and almost punted him off the bed, but he moved out of arm’s reach before I could catch him.

  “You have food, you little fucker,” I grumbled at him, rolling over and pulling the blanket back up over my ears. I had to leave my face partially uncovered so I could breath, which Nemo used as his point of attack. As soon as my breathing evened out, he poked me again, staring at me through the opening in my blankets. He stared at me, reaching his paw in and patted the pillow beside my nose before delicately extending his claws toward me again. I caught his paw and held it gently, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away. We played tug-of-war for a few seconds before he was able to twist away and jump off the bed. I chuckled to myself and waited. Sure enough, he was back up in my face less than a minute later. I threw the blankets off my head and scritched him all over.

  “You are such a dick,” I said, smiling as he rubbed himself around my arm, like ribbons on a Maypole, first one side and then the other, pushing his head as hard against my hand as he could before sliding his body along my hand. Simon chirped from the other side of the bed, irritated that I’d thrown the blankets over him. He was not a fan of burrowing and did not appreciate being covered. Dignified, he pulled himself onto my pillow and started licking himself all over. I stretched, flipped my phone over to check the time, and started my morning routine.

  “Be good and play nice,” I told the kitties as I went out the front door. “That means you, Shade,” I told my biggest girl. She liked to pick fights with the other two kittens for no reason. Of the four cats, she was the craziest and the fattest, but she had the biggest purr so I kind of let her get away with murder.

  The Seven Sisters Coffee Shop was in the middle of the main street. We made our own food and drinks and gave the community a place to gather in the morning on their way to work. Ava, the youngest member of our staff, was the morning person in the group. She was up and in the shop by 3 a.m., baking bread and pastries and getting the first pots of coffee ready for the day. Cassie and Mac took turns working late morning to early evening, covering the lunch crowd and the after school kids. Genna was our planner and loved to decorate the shop for every holiday. She set up musical events in the evenings and hosted an open mic night at least once a month. Margie managed our greeting cards and trinkets area. She often helped Ava with the morning baking, but she also liked to spend evenings with me, so we never quite knew when she was going to be there. Evangeline was the introvert of the group, so she spent most of her time in the office balancing the books and working on the schedule. Margie’s erratic scheduling often drove her a little nuts, since she liked to change her hours week to week, and sometimes day to day, so every once in a while we’d hear a growl from the back room and know Evangeline was running payroll.

  “Miranda!” Genna called, waving as I stepped into the cozy space. She came over and gave me a hug, which I was still getting used to after three months. I don’t like to be touched, but I got the feeling that if I told her that she might cry. Instead, I hugged her back, soaking in her warmth.

  “Bad dreams again?” she asked, falling into step with me as I bustled to the back room, stripping off my winter gear as I went. “I’m going to make you that valerian root tea with chamomile and calendula. Spike that with some ashwaganda and you should be able to sleep through those kittens of yours making their own rock band and practicing to go on tour.” She leaned in the doorway while I hung up my jacket and purse.

  “If the pot isn’t helping, I’m not sure your tea will do much good,” I said.

  “Cannabis gives me the strangest dreams,” she said, waving her hand at me, as if dismissing my statement as inconsequential.

  “Me, too, but at least it lets me sleep. The dreams are usually usually weird, but they’re nice, too.”

  “True,” she conceded, “but still weird, and sometimes hard to get out of. Besides, what if Mac decides to drug test us?” We looked at each other and laughed.

  “The day I drug test you is the day you know I was replaced by a replicant,” Mac yelled through the pass-through. Genna wasn’t the only gardener in the group, and Mac was always trying to grow the rarest strains. I pulled on my apron and joined the others in the shop.

  “Anything exciting today?” I asked.

  “Ava tried a couple of new soups. Her baked potato is beyond amazing,” Cassie said. She ladled up a bowl and buttered a couple pieces of warm bread, put it on a tray and pushed it across the counter to me. “I know you probably haven’t eaten today, so go do that before you start working.” I rolled my eyes but took the tray to a table. The first bite of soup made me swoon and it was all gone before I knew it. Refreshed, I took my tray to the back, loaded my dishes into the dishwasher, and went back out to the counter.

  The store was busy but quiet. A few college students worked in the corner tables in the back, books spread out and laptops open. A couple of young mothers sat at a table sharing cookies with toddlers and each other, waiting for school to let out so they could go get their older kids. Two old men drank coffee and played chess. They were used to us having fun with each other and knew we’d keep their coffee cups filled, so they ignored us and focused on their game.

  Charlie met me at the door when I got home that evening. She purred and rubbed against my legs as I set my stuff down on the chair I kept by the door. I toed my shoes off and tucked them under the chair, then reached down to pet her. She instantly threw herself on the floor and rolled over, offering me her belly for rubs, but she was very careful to tuck her tail between her legs so her butt wasn’t exposed. I teased her about being a prude and went to check the food and water bowls. The day had been long and uneventful, which was nice considering the night before. I was more than ready for a relaxing night on the couch under a pile of kittens.

  A knock on the door an hour later startled me out of a doze. I paused the show I was watching and pulled my gun from its hiding place between the couch cushions. I picked up my phone and entered 911, waiting to connect the call until I knew what was going on. I racked the slide and flipped off the safety as I walked to the door, glad the only lights on in the house were the ones in the living room so whoever was at the door couldn’t be sure anyone was home. I looked through the peephole. A man stood there, looking dazed. His hands were hanging empty at his sides and his coat was hanging open. A dark stain was spreading from the collar of his shirt downward. His face was growing paler by the second and he dropped his head to his chest, bracing one arm against the door jam. My instinct was to open the door and help him, but I hit the send button on my phone.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a calm voice asked in my ear.

  “There’s a man apparently bleeding on my porch,” I said, just as calmly. “Could you please send an ambulance and a police car?” I gave her my address and phone number. Through the door, I saw him hear my voice and nod. He sank to the porch floor and I felt him slump against the door.

  “An ambulance is on its way. There are officers in your area who should be with you shortly. Would you like me to stay on the line?”

  “Yes, but I’m going to talk to him and see what’s going on,” I said. I moved the phone away from my ear and knelt on the floor.

  “Sir, can you tell me what happened?” I called to him through the mail slot.

  “I don’t know,” he rasped. I heard something, probably his head, thunk against the door. “I was walking down the street and some guy ran at me and tried to cut my throat. I don’t know why.” I could hear sirens coming closer and soon lights were flashing through the windows in the kitchen to my left. I heard barking and a dog ran up on my porch, dancing around the man, trying to comfort him and figure out what was wrong. He hugged the dog close and started to calm her. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of dish towels from under the sink.

  “I’m going to open the door a little,” I said, flipping the safety back on and setting my gun on the floor where it couldn’t be seen. It was still in easy reach if I should need it, but the presence of this man’s dog made me feel better about letting my guard down a little. I heard his back scrape against the door as he moved to lean more against the house, and I opened the door just enough to slide the towels out to him. The dog’s nose pushed against the crack, but I braced it with my knee so she couldn’t force it open any further. The man took the towels gently. The sirens were louder now and I could hear an ambulance coming, too. Through the crack in the door, I saw the cops get out of their car and start running toward my house. The dog began growling and barking, standing between her person and the strangers. I opened the door further and snapped my fingers. She looked at me. I told her to come and made her sit. The man laughed hoarsely and shook his head.

  “She usually only listens to me,” he said. The officers approached slowly. She was nervous and interested, but continued to sit.

  “I have a way with animals,” I told him. I reached out and stroked her back, soothing her. She shivered but relaxed a bit under my hand.

  “Her name is Kitten,” he said. The ambulance pulled up so I opened the door and pointed her into the bathroom. She came into the house and I shut the door. The police and EMTs came up on the porch and started triage. I stood in the door, waiting to answer any questions. They talked to the man in a quiet voice, applying bandages to his neck, strapping him to the gurney. The police agreed to take his statement at the hospital.

  “I’ll just keep the dog, then, shall I?” I asked, slightly sarcastic. The officers looked at the man and then looked at me.

  “We can call animal control and someone will be here to collect her soon,” one of the officers said.

  “No, that’s ok,” I replied, rethinking the situation. “She’s a pit mix. I don’t trust the shelter to keep her. Plus she seems like a good girl.” I walked into the house, careful to keep the door mostly closed, grabbed my purse and pulled out a business card for Seven Sisters. “Put this with his things and he can contact me there when he gets out. I used to be involved with rescue groups so I can handle her.” One of the officers nodded and handed the card to his partner. His partner jumped in the back of the ambulance to ride with the victim and get his statement.

  “May I come in?” the officer who stayed behind asked. “I have some questions for you.”

  “I would prefer to talk on the porch,” I said, “but I’ll get us some coffee so we won’t be too cold. Please have a seat and I’ll be back out in a minute.” He gave me a strange look but sat in one of the chairs. I closed the door, went into the kitchen and got a pot of coffee ready to brew, grabbed two mugs, sugar, half and half, and went to join him outside. On the porch, I plugged the coffee pot into my Christmas light outlet and turned it on. Reaching back around the door, I grabbed a coat and sat beside him, pulling a hat from my pocket and pulling it on.

  “May I ask why we’re doing this out here?” he asked, bemused by my preparedness.

  “I don’t let people I don’t know into my house,” I told him, looking him in the eye.

  “But I’m a police officer,” he said, pulling out his notebook and flipping to an empty page.

  “So was the man who raped me five years ago,” I told him, no emotion in my voice. The color drained out of his face.

  “What?” he asked, too shocked to school his own discomfort.

  “My house was broken into and the officer who came to take my statement decided to ‘check on me’ later that night. I didn’t want to let him in and he took exception to that, and decided I needed to be taught some manners. After that, I moved here. Now no one, not even a bleeding man, comes into my house if I don’t know them.” It wasn’t a total lie; my rapist was a cop and it was very much because of him I no longer allowed people into my house, but I’d never been robbed. At least I had that going for me.

  “Did you press charges?” he asked. The coffee pot was bubbling now and I watched the liquid drain into the pot. I laughed without humor.

  “Did I press charges against a police officer in the small town where he was next in line to be chief? No, I did not. Seems like a really good way to invite bad things to happen to you.” I handed him a mug and filled it with coffee. I added cream and sugar to my cup and filled it nearly to the top. I’d brought the beans from work, so I knew they were high quality. He waved off the sugar but poured in as much cream as he could fit without making the cup overflow.

  “You should have pressed charges,” he said firmly. I shook my head, not bothering to restrain an eye roll. I sighed deeply and leaned back in my chair.

  “You have questions about what happened tonight?” I asked, sipping my hot drink. I watched him shake his head, deciding wisely that if I wasn’t going to respond to that, he should just get on with his job. He asked me to tell him what had happened, so I took him through my evening step by step. No, I did not know the man. No, I didn’t hear anything suspicious before he knocked on the door. No, there was no yelling from outside that I could remember, but the show I’d been watching had been loud so I could have missed it. He asked me questions for about twenty minutes, until my toes were starting to go numb in my slippers, before closing his notebook.

  “I may have some more questions for you tomorrow, if you’d be willing to come down to the station,” he said. “It’s too cold to keep going and it’s getting late. I need to go get my partner at the hospital. Are you sure you’re ok keeping the dog?”

  “I know it’s not how things are usually done,” I conceded, “but I have dog food in the pantry and my cats are pretty used to having a dog around, so we should be fine. Once you know what’s going on with that guy, I can always bring her to the station and drop her off for him. She’ll be fine with me. Like I said, I used to work with a rescue, so it’s really no trouble.” I fished in my purse and pulled out another business card. He tucked it into his pocket.

  “So you’ll come by the station tomorrow afternoon?” he asked. “I should be there around 2:30, but if you can’t make it then, I’ll make sure they know who you have to talk to.”

  “I have to talk to my partners, but I’ll shoot to be there around 3,” I told him. He pulled a business card of his own out of his pocket and handed it to me. I slipped it in my pocket without really looking at it. He nodded and started walking to his car. I unplugged the coffee maker and threw the dregs into the flower bed. Halfway down the sidewalk, he turned back.

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  “Where did you used to live?” he asked.

  “A long way from here,” I said, picking up the coffee fixings. He nodded and got in his car. I waited until he drove away before turning my back on the street and going into the house.

  In the house, all four cats were seated outside the bathroom door, tails flicking with agitation at the smell of the visitor. I could hear her whining inside, scraping her claws on the door to get out. I shushed the kitties away and opened the door, stepping inside. Toilet paper was everywhere and the hand towel that usually hung by the sink was in a tangled heap on the floor. I sat on the closed toilet and Kitten put her paws on my lap, standing up to look me in the face. I stroked her giant head and rubbed her shoulders, helping her relax.

  “You’re one of those dogs, huh?” I said, rubbing her chest briskly. “If you don’t have anything to do you just entertain yourself?” I looked at the door and saw the marks she’d gouged out with her claws. It wasn’t the first time I’d have to replace a door, and since she was in a strange place all by herself, I couldn’t really get mad at her for being a little destructive. Still, it made my good deed feel a little more like a punishment. I picked up her lead and opened the door. The cats had all regathered by the door and were waiting. Seeing the ferocious beast, two of them took off running up the stairs. The two oldest looked at her, Simon getting big and fat as he started growling deep in his chest. Kitten, for her part, just looked at me. She glanced at the cats, but was more interested in what I was doing. I led her into the kitchen, keeping a loose hold on her leash. She stayed with me, sitting when I told her, waiting patiently while I dug around in the pantry to find food and treats I always kept stored there. Simon and Shade followed us, Simon hissing with his back arched and Shade yowling at the dog. Kitten’s tail wagged hard and I could tell she wanted to go sniff them, but I hadn’t released her from her sit, so she stayed there. I was impressed. Most dogs would have taken off after the cats who ran in the first place, but whoever the guy was, he’d trained his dog very well.

  I pulled a bowl from the cupboard and poured in some food. Kitten looked at it and looked at me. I stepped away and released her. She dove for the food and ate it in seconds. While she did that, I poured some water into another bowl and set it on the floor. When she finished inhaling her food, she drank all the water. I waited until she was done and refilled it, letting her drink as much as she wanted, but one bowl seemed to be enough. She flopped onto her side and watched me as I cleaned the coffee pot, put the mugs in the dishwasher, and straightened everything up. I left her leash on her but didn’t pick it up again. When I walked to the door, she chuffed at me, got up, and followed me out to the living room. I laid on the couch and patted the back. She jumped up and laid on me, looking me in the eye with a sad puppy face. I rubbed her ears and turned my show back on. I pulled a blanket over both of us and picked up my phone, shooting a message to the ladies from work so they’d know what was going on.

  I woke up under a pile of cats and one large dog. Apparently peace had been found in the night and they allowed Kitten to join the cuddle puddle around me. I looked at the crate I had closed her in. The door was bent out of shape where she had pushed through to freedom. How she had done it so quietly was a mystery to me. Now she looked at me with her sad, sleepy puppy face and all I could do was rub her ears. So she was going to be this kind of dog: a stage-five clinger.

  Morning routine accomplished, I loaded Kitten and an old basket bed into my car and drove to work. I looped her leash over my arm and hauled up the bed.

  “Ms. Alan, let me help you with that,” a voice said from behind me. I turned and saw the police officer from the night before.

  “I have this, but if you want to get the doors, that would be a help,” I said. He walked ahead of me and opened the first door, leaning out of the vestibule to prop it open for me, then pushing open the second door so I could walk through.

  “We’re having company today, Miranda?” Genna asked joyously, rushing to meet me at the door. I thought she was going to take the bed but instead she pulled Kitten to her and started to massage her face and rub her ears. I rolled my eyes a little, dropped the leash, and set the bed near the end of the counter. Kitten would not be the first canine visitor at the shop, so I wasn’t really worried about what the other ladies would think. We were all animal lovers, so rescue was strong in our group. Genna picked up the leash and brought Kitten over to the bed. We had set an airplane cable on the end of the counter, giving the dog ten feet or so of space to wander, and Genna clipped her to it now. Kitten sniffed around the bed before plopping on it, rolling over to offer her belly for rubs. Pup situated, I turned to face the cop.

  “How can I help you today, officer?” I asked, unzipping my coat.

  “I thought you might be more comfortable answering questions here,” he said. I raised one eyebrow.

  “At my job where all the people I work with will now feel they need to involve themselves? Solid plan,” I deadpanned, nodding slowly. Realizing his possible error, I watched him start to blush and stammer before I gave him a slight grin and gestured to a table. “Just messing with you. They all know what’s going on.” He visibly relaxed and sat at the table. I went behind the counter to get us both coffee and some brownies. Ava had made my favorite today: dark chocolate, gooey brownies with vanilla buttercream icing. The best thing to come out of having a guy bleeding on my porch was sympathy baked goods.

  We sat for half an hour or so, him recording our conversation, rehashing everything that had happened the night before. He asked careful questions and let me take all the time I needed to answer, though none of the questions really bothered me. The whole situation had been so surreal I almost didn’t believe it had happened. If Kitten hadn’t been napping on the floor next to the counter I might have doubted reality. As it was, she was snoring just loud enough for our regular old-timers to turn around and look at her. They chuckled and went back to their card game, focused more on gin rummy than a new furry friend.

  “Any word on how the guy is doing?” I asked as he started to put away his notebook and recorder.

  “Honestly, I have no idea. He snuck out of the hospital after they stitched him up.” I froze for a moment before setting my cup down very carefully.

  “When were you going to tell me that?” I asked flatly.

  “Now, actually. Since we have no idea who he is and there was no sign of a struggle on the street, we’re having trouble trying to figure out what happened to him. The only blood was on your porch and the knife we found on the sidewalk only had one set of prints, which we’re assuming are his.” I sat stone still, barely breathing, trying to put clues together.

  “I don’t even know who he was,” I said, quietly. I looked behind the counter and made eye contact with Mac. She nodded and came over, pulling a chair to sit beside me. The officer looked at her and then at me. I nodded and gave her the update, which she really didn’t need since I knew she’d been listening in, but I figured she might not want him to know how closely she had been paying attention. She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

  “First thing we’re going to do is put a new collar on that dog,” she said. She went behind the counter and grabbed a pair of disposable gloves, then pulled one of the cute collars from the retail area. A local pet accessory maker had a small display of her goods she used to raise money and awareness for the humane society. Mac adjusted the new collar and switched out the old one, putting it in a paper bag, which she then handed to the officer.

  “You can check it for fingerprints and see if they match the knife,” she said. “Not that you’re likely to find a good print, but it’s worth a shot. Then you’ll know if the prints on the knife belong to the guy.” He pulled the bag to his side of the table and made a note of the date and time on the outside.

  “Next,” she went on briskly, “is there a plan in place for keeping Miranda safe?”

  “Mac, I’m fine,” I said.

  “This is a threat,” she said pointedly. “I don’t know what the threat is, but it’s not normal and it’s not something to ignore. What if this guy is targeting you for something?”

  “Then I’ll defend myself,” I said simply.

  “You have his dog,” the officer offered, seeming to be on Team Mac. “He has a reason to come back to your house.”

  “And I won’t let him in,” I told them both. “He can meet me here to get her if he even wants her back. I gave him one of my business cards so he could contact me when he got out of the hospital.” Mac threw up her hands.

  “Al, now this guy knows where you live and where you work.”

  “We’re going to patrol her block,” the officer stepped in, “and keep an eye out for strange activity. We don’t know if he’s a criminal. He could just be a harmless weirdo.”

  “What is your name?” Mac snapped at him.

  “Malcolm Reynolds,” he said, a little sheepishly. We both looked at him, a little perplexed. “My mom liked that show about cowboys in space,” he shrugged.

  “Ok, Officer Reynolds,” Mac said, “Miranda has a skewed sense of self-preservation, it seems.”

  “Mac, I’m a fucking grown-up,” I objected. She cut me a sharp Mom-look and turned back to the cop.

  “She thinks she can protect herself just because she owns a couple of guns and knives,” Mac went on as if I hadn’t said anything, “but there is no way I will leave her unprotected.”

  “I agree, we need to keep an eye on her, which is why we’re going to make sure there are patrols in her neighborhood, like I said.” Mac nodded.

  “That’s probably the best you can do,” she said grudgingly. “Since you don’t know anything about this guy. Do you at least have a picture?”

  “We have his blood,” I said sarcastically. “You want to use that to track him down? Maybe chase him across three states and push him in front of a moving train?”

  “What movie is that even from?” she asked, minorly irritated.

  “Kind of “The Fugitive” but they were on top of a train,” I said.

  “We are using security footage to try to track his movements before and after his alleged attack,” Malcolm interjected. “We had a visual on him for about ten minutes around the hospital but he got on a bus and we lost him.”

  “I thought buses had cameras,” Mac said.

  “They do, but the camera on the bus he got on shorted a few seconds after he paid the fare and the driver doesn’t remember anything about him other than the huge bandage on his neck. He rode the bus for a long time, but got off out the back door when a bunch of people got on after a movie let out over by the mall.”

  “And the mall footage?”

  “We’re trying to get access but since there’s no criminal activity that we know of, we can’t get a warrant and the mall doesn’t want to be held responsible if the guy sues for whatever reason.”

  “He’s smart,” Mac said, leaning her elbows on the table, tilting her chin toward the cop.

  “Ok, what do you think this guy is going to do to me?” I asked her.

  “He sliced his own throat to meet you, so the world is pretty much his oyster when it comes to whatever crazy-ass Hell he wants to rain down upon you,” she said, looking at me over the tops of her glasses.

  “You are blowing this out of proportion,” I told her, “and while I appreciate your concern, the more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure he’s just some weirdo.”

  “Our psychiatrist would actually agree more with your friend,” Malcolm interjected. “His behavior may not seem completely erratic, but it indicates some pretty interesting and intricate planning on his part. We don’t know what his purpose is, but it’s not normal. He managed to obscure his face on all the camera angles we have, so we don’t even have a good picture of him to give to the police.”

  “Let me pull up my doorbell camera,” I said, pulling my phone out. I opened my app and pulled up the timestamp about five minutes before he rang my bell. I fast-forwarded it as the other two leaned in, pressing play as soon as we saw motion in the background. Then the screen went black. We watched for a few more minutes but nothing came up. I turned up the sound. I could hear knocking, hear myself calling the ambulance, hear him hit the door, but the picture never came back up. I could barely hear his voice, which didn’t make much sense since he was right there by the doorbell. We listened as the police and ambulance arrived. When the picture came back up, we could see the gurney being wheeled away. I stopped the video and rewound it.

  “Does that guy have magnets in his pockets or what?” Cassie asked. “He evaded all the video surveillance everywhere. How did he do that?”

  “Mac, look, I’m not comfortable with this situation at all, but I’m not really sure I’m actually in danger.”

  “Kitten is sweet, but you really shouldn’t have taken his dog,” she said, a little grumpy.

  “She’s a pitbull. You know what would happen to her at the shelter. Besides, maybe she’ll warn me of any danger.” We all looked to where the dog was being sat on by a toddler. The baby pulled its ears and tried to bite her nose and Kitten just licked him until his mother came to extract him.

  “Yes, that dog will certainly be a boon to your protection,” Mac said dryly.

  “Well until they find him, you’re not going to be the only human in your house. I mean, the dog is his so it’s not like it’s going to see him as a threat if he shows up in the middle of the night to abduct you from your bed. The girls and I will work out a rota for staying with you.”

  “That’s probably not a bad idea,” Malcolm said.

  “I need time to myself,” I told them both. “If I don’t have that, I’m going to go insane.”

  “Better insane and alive than mentally stable and dead,” Mac said, pulling out her phone and going into our group chat.

  “You say that now, but what if not having alone time sends me into a homicidal rage?”

  “Then you’re going to be SOL because the cops are going to be driving by your house a couple times a night so any screaming will be recorded by the authorities,” Malcolm said simply.

  “Find him fast,” I told the officer. “I can’t live like this for long.”

  “Stop being such a baby,” Mac chided me.

  “Stop being such an overbearing mother hen,” I shot back. I heard messages pinging in our chat and groaned, rolling my head and my eyes back.

  “Give us a couple days to figure out what’s going on,” Malcolm said soothingly, “and we’ll get you back to normal life as soon as we can.”

  “Have you checked with other states to see if anyone else has had something like this happen? Maybe it’s a pattern.” Mac was still focused on her phone, pulling up her scheduling app. I could see the reflection in her glasses.

  “You think I have a serial killer?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Or attacker. Maybe there are other women in the country who have been injured by this guy. Isn’t it better to assume the worst and be glad when it turns out he’s a harmless weirdo who doesn’t like modern medicine?”

  “Our shrink is calling colleagues around the country to see if anyone else has heard of anything this weird, but it’s all unofficial since no crime that we can detect has actually been committed. If he did cut himself, which it looks like he probably did, that’s not really against the law.”

  “I thought suicide was against the law so you could let youself into people’s houses if you suspected they were trying to kill themselves.”

  “It is, but this is looking less like attempted suicide and more like just plain old human weirdness, so no actual laws have been broken.”

  “I do not understand people,” I said, crossing my arms on the table and resting my forehead on them.

  “Are there any other cameras around your house?” Malcolm asked.

  “I have them in the living room to check the cats when I’m not home,” I said.

  “It might help to have a look at that and your doorbell camera.”

  “I can make a copy of the memory card for you,” I told him. “Everything is saved to the cloud for a couple of days, but I keep a backup on file at home. The only reason it saves anything to the cloud is so I can check for weirdness online.”

  “Copies would be great. Maybe the guy cased your house before this all happened. I’d like to check any footage you have.”

  “Doesn’t Mrs. Mills have a camera, too?” Mac asked.

  “I think she has a doorbell camera,” I said. “She’s the lady across the street. Very nice. Will probably give you her password if you smile at her.” Mac chuckled.

  “Not very security-oriented, huh?” Malcolm asked.

  “Not security-oriented and she loves a man in uniform. I’ve warned her about letting people in her house or giving out too much information, but she’s really trusting.”

  “I’ll make sure I have another officer with me,” he said.

  “If she offers you cake, say yes. She’s an amazing baker.” He chuckled, checked his watch, and stood up.

  “You all seem to have this well in hand. I’ll be in contact with you in the next day or two, unless we find the guy before that. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.” He gave one of his cards to each of us and left a few for the other ladies. We said our good-byes and he left, giving Kitten a scratch behind her ears.

  “We’re warding your house tonight,” Mac said softly, watching Malcolm make a point to pet Kitten before heading to the door. “Astrologically speaking, this couldn’t have happened at a better time. The new moon was last night, so anything we do will gain power over the next two weeks.”

  “At least I have that going for me,” I said sarcastically.