She blinked back to attention. The shower was still running. She made a move for the door, but stopped when she heard something click behind her. She turned and listened. There were more clicks, followed by a scratching sound.

The noise was coming from outside the window. She moved to the narrow space between the dresser and the foot of the mattress. The sound stopped as soon as she got there. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she moved the curtain aside.

There was only blackness beyond the rain-streaked glass.

Then lightning flashed.

The beast on the ledge outside the window quivered with rabid fury. Its fur was matted with blood, its teeth flecked with gore. The animal’s undercarriage was swollen to capacity.

Thunder clapped, and the world outside went dark again.

Savannah covered her mouth with a shaking hand, her heart like a piston in her chest.

Seconds passed.

Then, through the heavy patter of rain she heard another sound outside the glass—meowing. The sound was as desperate as it was disarming. Each wounded call was fraught with pain and fright.

Savannah listened for a few moments until the cries faded off.

She moved closer to the glass.

“Coodles?” She inched her face up to the window and tapped gently on the glass. “Coodles? Are you th—.”

A feral hiss split the silence as the beast sprang out of the blackness and slammed into the glass. The window shattered into a white web of jagged cracks, a smear of red at its center where the animal’s jaws had struck the pane.

Savannah jerked back. As she spun away her side rammed into the corner of the dresser. Her breath rushed out of her, robbing her of the ability to scream. The pain was searing. Her extremities went numb. Her vision became a field of dots, swimming over a spinning room.

Then all bent black.

She never felt the impact of the fall.

CHAPTER 37

SHERIFF’S Deputy Hubie Polk set down his copy of Maxim magazine and pressed the flickering button on the switchboard.

“Sheriff’s office.” He propped his feet up on the dispatch desk. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“This is Marvin Meekin.”

“Who?”

“Philip Meekin’s daddy.”

“Who?”

“Blind-side middle linebacker, number seventy-seven.”

“Oh, right. Seventy-seven. Hell of a player. I’m glad he’s not dead.”

“Thanks. Reason I’m calling is he’s missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yeah, got his mama worked into quite a lather.”

Hubie yawned, then took a bite out of his Arby’s melt. “Well, you know teenagers.”

“I thought I knew Phil, but he’s been actin’ strange all evening. Ever since he showed back up.”

“Showed back up?”

“Yeah. You know, after . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, that bus deal.”