I tried to see the house through his eyes. My home was a picture of perfect order: expensive furniture and artwork, carefully selected and arranged, highly polished floorboards I mopped every single day, the drapes I kept free of dust, the windows I cleaned once a week.

Surely the police officer could see that this was not the site of a break-in and attempted assault. Not a single item was out of place. Even so, Henry spun the officer a story as he walked through the house.

I don’t sleep well since the war. I was in bed, wide-awake. Heard a sound. Went to investigate. Saw Rhodes in the house. Chased him. A bit of a scuffle in the kitchen—pinned him against the fridge. Lizzie and Cal heard the noise and woke up just after Rhodes ran out. Probably out the back door. We never lock it.

This whole encounter was so absurd, I was starting to wonder if I was dreaming.

“I didn’t…” I interrupted as Johnson looked closely at the latch on the back door. “Cal and I really didn’t see or hear any of that. Not a thing.” What was I supposed to do in this situation? I had to tell the officer that Henry was imagining things, but I didn’t want to inflame him, and I certainly didn’t want to embarrass him.

“You probably slept through it,” Johnson said dismissively. He puffed out a breath of air, then looked between me and Henry.

“These Germans worry me,” he told Henry.

“Me too,” Henry said.

“You’re a veteran?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pacific theater?”

“No, sir,” Henry said. Then he drew in a breath and straightened his spine. “Europe.”

“Thank you for your service, son. Must be troubling to have them walking around the streets of this country.”

“It truly is, sir.”

“Extra cautious from now on, all of you,” Johnson announced, sliding his notebook back into his pocket. “Keep all the doors locked. And if you hear anything, you call us right away.”

“Thank you, sir,” Henry said grimly. We all walked back along the hall to the front door in silence. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest. I had to fix this—I just didn’t have a clue how.

When the officer pushed my front door open, I panicked and blurted, “Are you going to arrest him?”

Detective Johnson turned back to offer me a gentle look.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Miller, but it would be very difficult for us to do that when none of you saw him clearly. I’ll make some inquiries and we’ll keep an extra close eye on your house with a night patrol for a few nights in case there’s any more trouble.”

Henry glanced down at the numbers on his hand and added helpfully,

“He’s at 1401 Beetle Avenue, sir. In case you decide to interview him.”