He cleared his throat. “Sergeant Amronklin said the FBI boys would be sending reinforcements by as soon as they get them all rounded up on the South Shore. He said by two or three in the morning, the latest. I understand front and back doors are protected by alarms and the back of the house is secure.”

Angie nodded.

“I’d still like to take a look back there.”

“Be my guest.”

He tipped his hat again and walked back around as we stood on the porch and listened to his footsteps crunch through the frozen grass.

“Where’d Devin get this kid?” Angie said. “Mayberry?”

“Probably a nephew,” I said.

“Of Devin’s?” She shook her head. “No way.”

“Trust me. Devin’s got eight sisters and half of them are nuns. Literally. The other half are married to men who know they take a back seat to the Lord.”

“How’d Devin come out of that gene pool?”

“It’s mystery, I admit.”

“This one’s so innocent and forthright,” she said.

“He’s too young for you.”

“Every boy needs a woman to corrupt him,” she said.

“And you’re just the girl to do it.”

“Bet your ass. Did you see the way those thighs of his moved in those tight pants?”

I sighed.

The flashlight beam preceded Timothy Dunn’s crunching feet as he came back around the house.

“All clear,” he said as we came back out on the steps.

“Thank you, Officer.”

He met her eyes and his pupils dilated, then fluttered to his right.

“Tim,” he said. “Please call me Tim, Miss.”

“Then call me Angie. He’s Patrick.”

He nodded and his eyes glanced guiltily over my face.

“So,” he said.

“So,” Angie said.

“So, I’ll be in the car. If I need to approach the house I’ll call first. Sergeant Amronklin gave me the number.”

“What if the line’s busy?” I said.

He’d thought of that. “Three flashes from my flashlight directed at that window.” He pointed at the living room. “I’ve seen a diagram of the house and that should carry into any room except the kitchen and bathroom. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And finally, if you’re asleep or don’t see it, I’ll ring the bell. Two short rings. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

Angie nodded. “Thank you, Tim.”

He nodded, but couldn’t meet her eyes. He walked back across the street and down to his car and climbed in.

I grimaced at Angie. “Tim,” I said.

“Oh, shut up.”

“They’ll get over it,” Angie said.

We sat in the dining room talking about Grace and Mae. From there, I could see the dot of red light pulsing from the alarm console by the front door. Instead of reassuring me, it seemed only to underscore our vulnerability.

“No, they won’t.”

“If they love you, they’ll see you were just cracking under stress. Cracking badly, I admit, but cracking.”

I shook my head. “Grace was right. I brought it into her home. And then I became it. I terrified her child, Angie.”