“Did I hear you talking to someone a while ago?” I asked him cautiously. I took a quick shower as soon as I woke, hoping to be dressed by the time Henry woke up, but almost as soon as I stepped under the stream, I heard Henry speaking quietly in the hallway. By the time I was dressed, he had returned to his room.

“Yeah, I called Walt to let him know I’d be late,” he said. He took another bite of his apple, and I noticed the 1401 BA SE scrawled in ink on the back of his hand. What did that mean? Was it a lumber thing—a reminder to do something at his job? “Then I called the police. Someone is coming round shortly.”

“What?” I said, as my heart sank. “Henry, no. I know last night felt real, but it was just one of those dreams you used to have. You’ve never even met Jürgen Rhodes. How would you know what he looks like?”

“How many other German men in this town have a beef with you, huh?” Henry said, frowning. “I know what I heard.”

“When you woke us up, you were in the kitchen, thrashing around against no one,” I said uneasily. “You know I’m not a fan of those Germans, but in this case, the intruder was in your imagination.”

Henry’s brows knit for a moment. Then he paused.

“Well, it won’t hurt for the police to come and check the house.”

Hell. How was I going to get through to him? I didn’t even have time to think about it, because a quiet knock came from the door. I scurried after Henry when he rose quickly to answer it.

The police officer was middle-aged and sharp-eyed. He stood in my foyer and peered into the living room, notebook in hand. Henry introduced himself, then pointed to me.

“Officer Johnson, this is Lizzie Miller. Mrs. Calvin Miller. Cal was here last night, but he’s at work at Redstone Arsenal now. He works on the rocket program there.”

“I’m Detective Johnson, Mrs. Miller,” the police officer said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you too,” I said weakly. Then I added, “My husband and I really didn’t see a thing.”

“Sounds like the intruder came in, realized he was outnumbered, and left,” Johnson said grimly. He glanced at Henry and added, “Probably didn’t expect to find two men here. You’re sure the intruder was this Jürgen Rhodes?”

“Pretty sure,” Henry said. Then he paused. “It was dark. But he had a German accent and Rhodes makes perfect sense. My sister had an argument with his wife last weekend.”

The officer excused himself as he moved past me, glancing into each of the rooms. Henry followed him, and I followed Henry.