Peaches on the head, then went into the kitchen and tightened the faucet. She stood in the dark for several seconds, Ustening, and heard nothing out of the ordinary. That didn't mean much, though. Someone sneaking around outside a house in the middle of the night would try to be as quiet as possible.

Wincing at every noise she made, Jenny opened a cabinet and pulled out several cans of com, soup, and tuna, and a couple of jars of spaghetti sauce. She opened a drawer and scooped up a handful of silverware, then put everything into a plastic grocery bag.

Peaches was still at the front door, head cocked, eyes trying to bore a hole through the wood. Jenny left her and went down the hall to the basement door, were she built a pyramid of cans and topped it with several strategically placed spoons.

Back to the bottom of the stairs where she erected another booby trap, then into the kitchen and the door that led to the garage.

She saved the front door for last. After carefully placing a fork on top of a can of vegetable soup, she pulled Peaches into her arms and scratched her between the ears. The dog was quivering with tension, and Jenny's heart started to speed up again. She tried to talk down the rising sense of panic. It doesn't have to be someone. It's probably something. An animal. A broken branch. In the morning, you'll find out, and then you'll laugh about it.

It was almost three o'clock. Only about three more hours, Jenny thought, and then the sun will

come up, and then everything will be okay. Three hours. You can make it.

She was wringing wet, but a shower was completely out of the question. Jenny gave Peaches another pat, then went into the living room and sat on the couch. Her heart just wouldn't stop thudding, and she had to strain her ears to hear above it.

She pulled her legs up and leaned sideways, letting her head rest on one of the throw pillows, suddenly so tired her eyes were starting to close. She forced them open and stared across the room at the desk and the telephone. The red number one glowed on the machine. The message from her secret admirer -- she'd saved it, of course. She was afraid to play it now, afraid to make any noise at all, but just remembering the sound of his voice cabned her for a moment.

Suddenly a piece of silverware clanged, and Jenny was on her feet, her secret admirer forgotten, her heart racing faster then ever. Her mouth was dry and her knees were actually weak. Which trap had fallen'? Where had the sound come from?

Clutching a pillow, she forced herself to move across the living room and into the front hall. She'd left a light on at the top of the stairs, and its faint glow just reached the bottom of the front door. There was the tower of cans, and there, lying on the tiles, was the fork. The door was still closed, still chained. Peaches was still there, too. Sniffing the fork.