There was some light illuminating the floor of the living room, but not the usual pasting of yellow from the streetlight. This was more subdued – the blue/black of the moon forcing its way into their home.

Buttons stopped at the entrance to the living room.

His tail dropped.

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

Kate stopped.

Buttons never growled. Ever.

Shit. What if this was one of those home invasions where the thieves cut the power to the house? Was someone in her living room at this very moment, standing still as a statue, careful not to make a sound, not to breathe too hard, waiting to clobber anyone who stumbled into him?

She thought of Audrey Hepburn in Wait Until Dark, a terrified blind woman turning the tables on the criminals who had broken into her home.

You’re not Audrey Hepburn and this isn’t a movie.

Normally, she’d think it was just her paranoia, the meds, or that strange treatment aftereffect playing tricks with her mind, like it had been all night. She hadn’t told Andrew half the things she saw and felt over the years, knowing (after the fact) that they were just phantom images culled from a brain that was awash in chemicals. Kate once saw a baby with one arm hopping on their bed, singing a song in Spanish as it leered at her with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. The rational part of her brain had known there was no evil baby, but as it leapt over her feet and up toward Andrew’s pillow, it took all of her strength not to grab the lamp and try to smash it.

She cast a quick glance back to the bedroom.

Andrew.

Her legs were suddenly trapped in quicksand, afraid to go forward and unable to retreat to the bedroom.

One hand resting on the wall, she parted her lips and breathed through her mouth, in case air whistling in her nose would give her away. She felt for the vibration of any movement through the soles of her feet and palm of her hand. Her ears strained so hard, a tiny buzz of tinnitus rose from the silence. Her hips and shoulders ached from the creeping tension that stiffened her back.

Who was in her house?

Buttons also hadn’t moved, looking into the living room at something…or someone…she couldn’t see. Trapped in the moonlight, his lips pulled back, slobber splattering the floor.

Oh God, oh God, oh God!

Kate wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Most of all, she wanted to run and get Andrew. But her body, as always, refused to listen to her.

What had Buttons so riled up?

Please bark! If he got to barking, that would definitely wake Andrew up. And maybe, just maybe, it would scare off whoever was in her living room.