“No thank you, ma’am. That won’t be necessary.” Reddick smiled. “We don’t want you to disturb or touch anything. If you’ll just wait where you were, we won’t be long.”

Jeff slid his arm around Lisa’s waist. He could feel her trembling as more crime-scene people arrived. Taking direction from the others, they started working throughout the house, concentrating on the path of the attack. They took photographs, video recordings and brushed fingerprint powder everywhere.

Cruz took a moment to explain. “Our techs are going to focus on the areas where you saw the suspect,” she said. “They’ll look for prints, for anything he may have touched or left behind. We’ll also collect your fingerprints, for a set of elimination prints.”

Some fifteen minutes later, Cruz and Reddick finished their consultations, and one of the crime techs, a guy who looked to be in his early twenties, used a device resembling a laptop to laser-scan Jeff’s and Lisa’s fingerprints into their system. Then, like the officers had earlier, the detectives separated Jeff and Lisa. While the crime techs processed the house, Reddick interviewed Jeff in the living room. Cruz took Lisa upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms, directing her to a comfortable chair. Cruz sat across from her on a wooden chair, listening, taking notes and checking her recorder while Lisa detailed the incident.

“Before he let me go and ran off, he said, ‘I know everything about you. I’ll be watching you. I’m going to come back and’—” Lisa put both hands over her mouth, stifling a sob “—‘and fuck you.’”

Cruz touched her shoulder. “I’m not trying to diminish any part of what you’re going through, or suggest you let your guard down,” the detective said, “but often these guys are cowards, more frightened than you, and say things to torment and scare you.”

“You have to find him.”

“Did you get a look at his face or his eyes?”

“No, he wore one of those black ski masks and was mostly behind me.”

“Did you recognize his voice? Did he have any kind of an accent?”

Lisa shook her head. “It all happened so fast.”

“Did you notice any distinguishing marks, tattoos, scars, jewelry, or details on his clothes?”

“He wore black gloves, leather maybe.”

“Any distinct smells, cologne, body odor, shampoo, anything like that?”

“No.”

“Can you describe the knife?”

“I never saw it, but it felt like it had teeth, serrated.”

“Do you have any clue as to who he might have been?”

“No.”

“Did you post anything online about your move, pictures of the house, the location, the time frame—that sort of thing?”

“Only to family and friends in closed groups, nothing public.”

Cruz nodded reflectively and made notes. “Do you have any idea as to why someone would select your home?”

“No, we just moved here from Cleveland.”

“Why did you move?”