Nothing in the dining room, but there’s also no place to hide other than inside the antique buffet, which is jammed full of dishes we hardly ever use—the gold-rimmed wedding china that can’t go in the dishwasher and the hideous Christmas service Cam’s mother gave us as a wedding present. No way she could squeeze in there, not without making a racket.

I look to my left, in the study.

Many more places for her to choose from here—behind the doors of the built-in cabinets under the bookshelves, for example, or tucked inside one of the covered ottomans. I do a quick scan of the room, but the only sign either of the kids have been here is the mess spread across Cam’s desk, colored markers and tape and a messy stack of blank papers one of them pulled from the printer.

There’s movement at the bottom of the hill. A teenager being tugged down the road by a black Great Dane, who stops to sniff around the mailbox.

I glance behind me. The man is tucked out of sight, hidden behind the wall to the stairs. From his angle, he won’t be able to see how slow I’m moving, the way I’m shaking the screwdriver out of my sleeve while waving my free arm at the girl and her dog. I’m clearly in distress. Maybe this girl will see a panicked, frenzied woman freaking out inside her own front door and think to call for help.

Look up look up look up.

She doesn’t look up. The dog lifts its massive leg and squirts its scent all over my gardenia bush, but the girl is too absorbed by whatever is on her phone. She keeps her head down, scrolling with a thumb.

“Jade.” The voice is low and impatient, and it carries an unmistakable warning. “What’s taking so long?”

Down at the road, the beast gives a mighty tug, and the teenager lurches forward, her phone popping out of her hand. She catches it in midflight and doesn’t miss a beat. Walking and scrolling, walking and scrolling. For Christ’s sake, girl, look up. Not once does she lift her head.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

My ears ring with building pressure and the realization comes to me like a whisper. It’s up to me now. I clasp the screwdriver in a tight fist, testing the point on my palm. Good and sharp, but I’ll have to come at him hard. His neck, his temple, that soft spot between his shoulder blades. I’ll have to put all my weight and strength behind it. One chance, that’s all I get.

“You’re gambling with your life here, Jade. With your children’s lives. If you want tonight to have a happy ending, I suggest you stop playing around and lock the damn door.”