Once inside her bedroom, he closed the door behind him, locking it with a muted click. Moonlight streaming through slatted blinds cut the room into ribbons, and up close she didn’t look anything like his mother. She had dark hair that fell softly across her face, and as he stood over her, a small line formed between her dark eyebrows as though she were having a bad dream. If she only knew.

He stepped beside the bed, held the knife where she would see it, and clapped his hand over her mouth.

The woman opened her eyes and for a couple seconds just stared at him. Was he part of her dream? Then, as he had expected, she screamed into his gloved hand, her eyes fixed on the glint of moon reflecting off his knife.

“Shut up!” The words were both a yell and a whisper. “I won’t hurt you, but you have to be quiet.”

She didn’t obey. She was disoriented—terrified. She tried to pull away, sinking her head into her pillow as if that held some route for escape. She swung her right hand at his face and he jumped on top of her, straddling her chest and arms to stop her from moving. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to shut up right now.”

He could feel her chest heaving beneath him, and he squeezed his hand harder against her mouth to stop her from turning her head. He pressed the flat side of the blade to her throat and saw understanding pass behind her eyes. She stopped struggling but remained stiff.

After a few seconds of silence, the man loosened his hand from her mouth, a sign of good faith. She didn’t scream.

“What… what are you… gonna do?”

“Not what you think,” he said in a low, gravelly whisper.

Her breath came and went in shallow spurts. She looked up at him with big, fearful eyes—a damsel in distress, and he was the cause.

The woman spoke with a quaver of fear in her voice. “My boyfriend will be home soon.”

He smiled at her feeble attempt. “No. David won’t be home soon.”

She shuddered when she heard David’s name. He could use that fear to his advantage.

“Yes, I know his name. And I know that he works the night shift at the taconite plant in Hibbing. He’s there now and won’t be back until just before eleven. I’ve done my homework, so don’t insult me by underestimating me. You do exactly what I tell you to do and you’ll be fine. Step out of line just once and you will force me to do something I don’t want to.”

“What do you want?”

“Where’s your computer?”

She looked up at him in confusion then nodded toward a laptop on the floor in the corner. He got off her chest and stood next to the bed, the knife brandished between them. “Get dressed.”

The woman hesitated before getting out of bed, as though her modesty mattered in that moment. Then she slid out from beneath the blankets, wearing a T-shirt that covered to her thighs, and went to her closet for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. He watched to see that she didn’t grab anything she could use as a weapon. When she finished dressing, he put the laptop on the bed and told her to turn it on. She did as she was told, sitting on the edge of the bed as she typed.