I approached the door, quietly and cautiously. On the wall beside it was a switch that turned on a floodlight which illuminated the backyard. As I reached for the switch, the doorknob stopped turning. I turned the light on anyway.

Immediately, as if the switch had caused it to happen, something began to thump on the front door. I turned and ran for the front of the house-and halfway there Rita stepped into the hall and crashed into me. "Dexter," she said. "What-Cody said-" "Call the cops," I told her. "Someone is trying to break in." I looked behind her at Cody. "Get your sister and all of you get into the bathroom. Lock the door."

"But who would-we're not-" Rita said.
"Go," I told her, and pushed past her to the front door.
Once again I flipped on the outside light, and once again the sound stopped immediately.
Only to start up again down the hall, apparently on the kitchen window.

And naturally enough when I ran into the kitchen the sound had already stopped, even before I turned on the overhead light.

I slowly approached the window over the sink and carefully peeked out. Nothing. Just the night and the hedge and the neighbor's house and nothing else whatsoever.

I straightened up and stood there for a moment, waiting for the noise to start up again at some other corner of the house. It didn't. I realized I was holding my breath, and I let it out. Whatever it was, it had stopped. It was gone. I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath.

And then Rita screamed. I turned around fast enough to twist my ankle, but still hobbled for the bathroom as quickly as I could. The door was locked, but from inside I could hear something scrabbling at the window. Rita shouted, "Go away!"

"Open the door," I said, and a moment later Astor opened it wide.
"It's at the window," she said, rather calmly I thought.

Rita was standing in the middle of the bathroom with her clenched fists raised to her mouth. Cody stood in front of her protectively holding the toilet plunger, and they were both staring at the window. "Rita," I said.

She turned to me with her eyes wide and filled with fear. "But what do they want?" she demanded, as if she thought I could tell her. And perhaps I could have, in the ordinary course of things-"ordinary" being defined as the entire previous portion of my life, when I had my Passenger to keep me company and whisper terrible secrets. But as it was, I only knew they wanted in and I did not know why.