She was barely holding on to consciousness. Sara’s face swam above her as darkness crept into her vision. She vaguely registered Sara lunging for the phone near the kitchen and dialing 911, speaking frantically to them about an intruder and an assault as she made her way back to Frankie’s side. Frankie closed her eyes and tried to remember what the man had looked like. She needed to tell them while it was still fresh in her mind. It was dark with the porch light out and only a lamp on in the living room, she hadn’t really gotten a good look at his face. She’d been tired, flipping through a magazine while she waited for Sara and was anxious for him to leave. All she could find in the corners of her memory were vague impressions. He was tall, maybe 6′1″, dark brown or maybe black hair peeking out from under a grey baseball cap. Brown eyes, wide nose, thick eyebrows. She struggled to remember more, the shape of his face or the slant of his eyes, but she was fading fast and the images were slipping away like water leaking through her fingers. The image of the man disintegrated as whatever he’d injected her with took hold.

‘Did you see him?’ she whispered to Sara, trying desperately to hold on to reality. She wasn’t sure if Sara even heard her.

‘2975 Parkwood Lane. Yes, she’s conscious, but just barely. No, no visible injuries,’ she heard as if from far away.

‘Injected,’ Frankie forced out.

‘She says she was injected with something.’ Sara pulled the phone away from her mouth. ‘They’re on their way, Frankie. Hang in there.’ She squeezed one of Frankie’s hands tightly. After a pause Sara said, ‘It was dark, I only got a quick look. He was tall, with dark hair, I think. He was wearing a baseball cap. He wore grey pants and a button up shirt.’

‘Brown eyes,’ Frankie said before her eyes closed again.

‘Frankie says he’s got brown eyes. Ten minutes? Will you stay on the phone with me until they get here?’

A cool night breeze blew in through the still open back door. Sara released Frankie’s hand and jumped up, scurrying over and snapping it shut. She clicked the lock before rushing back to Frankie’s side. Sara kept talking to Frankie but it was garbled, like she was talking to her from behind a thick pane of glass. Losing her last grip on consciousness, Frankie’s final thought before she succumbed to the darkness was, was that The Tri-State Killer?

CHAPTER 13