Chapter 1
It was 3 am on a humid summer night when Darcy was startled awake by the sound of a lamp being knocked over downstairs. In a panic she whispered to her husband, “There’s someone in the house.”
Sloan opened the drawer next to the bed and reached for his gun. It was not there.
“What happened to the gun?” he whispered, his anxiety rising.
“I don’t know. I thought you kept it in the drawer.”
“Goddamn it, Darcy. We already had a break-in; it’s supposed to protect us.”
“Well, I don’t know, there’s still someone in the house. I’m scared, please see what’s going on,” she plead.
Sloan crept to the top of the stairs and peered down into the darkness at the bottom. He called out, “Who’s down there? I have a gun.”
As he stepped onto the landing the floorboard creaked, and a shot rang out. The bang echoed through the house, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. There was a groan and something heavy fell to the floor. At the bottom of the steps a dark figure ran out, tossed a gun into the bushes near the house, and ran off down the street. The screen door flapped in the night.
