They shared an awkward silence as they waited for the computer to warm up. He was hot under his ski mask and hoodie. His palms sweated beneath the gloves. He was glad that she couldn’t hear how loudly his heart was beating. When the computer came to life, he told her to access her bank account.

“What for?”

“Because I told you to.” He tried to put grit into his words, but they sounded weak to his own ear, so he tried something else: “Because I have a knife and you don’t.” She typed.

Once she pulled up the account, she turned the screen to him. She had over thirty-two grand in the bank, more than he had expected. He clicked back a couple of screens and saw on the bank’s website that its doors would open at eight a.m. He and the woman would have to spend some time alone as they waited. He came prepared for that.

“Call your office. Tell them you’re sick and won’t be in today.”

“What are you going to do? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do what I say.”

“How do I know that?”

“If I came here to kill you, I would have done that already. If I came here to rape you…” He watched her eyes as she did the math, and she seemed to calm. Then he recited the lines he had practiced on the long bike ride over. “I am a thief. I’m here to take your money. That’s all. It’s what I do. In a little while, you’re going to drive to your bank and withdraw thirty thousand dollars in cash and bring it to me. I’m not taking all your money—I’ll leave you with enough for groceries and stuff—but I’m taking most of it.”

“I’ll write you a check right now,” she said.

The man almost chuckled. A check? How stupid did she think he was? “And when I go to cash that check, don’t you think I might have a problem? Not to mention security cameras. You think they’ll cash a check for thirty grand if I walk in wearing this ski mask? I’m going to rob you, but you’ll be bringing the money to me.”

He looked for signs that she believed that he would not hurt her, but saw none: no settling of the shoulders, no loosening of the worry lines around her eyes. He needed her to be scared, but hated making her so. She would never know how much he wanted to be anywhere other than where he was. His mother had been right about him.

“I know that you work at the vet clinic and that you start work at eight, so you need to call your office and leave a message that you aren’t feeling well. You’re taking a sick day.”

Her phone was plugged into a charger on her nightstand. She picked it up and turned it on. He watched closely as she touched a contact. She moved too quickly for the man to read the name of the contact identified as Poppy—not her employer.