Lucy looked at Bill. “Probably just a skunk,” he said, as the window behind his chair suddenly shattered with a crack like a gunshot. They both dove to the floor, where Lucy lay on her stomach, panting with fear. Bill began crawling, propelling himself by his elbows, and unplugged the lamp, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Then he grabbed the phone cord and pulled the instrument to him.

“What was that?” demanded Zoe, standing in the doorway.

Lucy’s heart was in her throat. “Get down,” she hissed. “I think somebody’s out there with a gun.”

Zoe began wiggling across the rug to her mother.

“Stay put. There’s broken glass.”

“I’m scared, Mommy.”

“Everything’s okay,” said Bill. “The cops are coming. All we have to do is stay low.”

Moments later, they heard the approaching siren of a police cruiser coming up Red Top Road. When they heard the scrunch of tires in the drive and saw the powerful lights reflected on the wall they cautiously got to their feet and Bill went to the kitchen door.

Lucy switched the overhead light on and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t a shot after all that had broken the window, she discovered, but a baseball-sized rock with a piece of paper wrapped around it.

“Don’t touch that,” she warned Zoe, hurrying into the kitchen. There she found Bill and Officer Josh Kirwan, Dot’s youngest, who looked barely old enough to vote.

“It was a rock,” Lucy informed him. “With a note.”

“What does the note say?”

“I didn’t touch it. Don’t you want to check it for fingerprints?”

“Oh, right,” said Officer Kirwan, nervously fingering his notebook. “I better call this in to the station.”

“I’ll make some coffee,” said Lucy, figuring it was going to be a long night. She gave Zoe a hug. “You go on back upstairs and start getting ready for bed.”

“But tomorrow’s Saturday,” she protested.

“Okay. You can watch the TV in my room.”

Officer Kirwan went outside to check that the rock thrower was gone and to look for evidence. Lucy and Bill sat at the kitchen table, listening to the coffee pot drip and hiss.

“I wish we could read that message on the rock,” said Lucy.

“It’s probably not anything you want to hear,” said Bill.

“Even so. It might have something to do with Mimi’s death.” She sniffed the comforting smell of coffee. “Maybe the murderer threw the rock.”

“Maybe you better calm down and let the police handle this.”