I pick up the object, which is in fact a stone that has rolled harmlessly across the lawn to lie in the rectangle of light from the back door, throwing a shadow much larger than its own self. It’s flattish, not even the size of an egg, and not terribly heavy, though I daresay I’d have felt its impact well enough if it had hit my head. It’s almost certainly a piece from the drystone wall. “Who’s there?” I call out, trying to peer through the darkness, trying to triangulate the source, fighting the instinct to run for the safety of the kitchen. It must have come from behind the cat, beyond the garden wall. “I’m warning you, I’ll call the police.” My words are immediately swallowed by the darkness. The cat’s inhuman eyes blink at me once, and then she chooses to disappear. Without conscious decision, my legs are backing me slowly toward the light that Carrie is standing in. I daren’t turn my back on the pitch black. “I’ll call the police,” I shout again, even as I continue to retreat. I’m on the gravel now, crunching awkwardly backward over it in my bare feet. The darkness mocks me with its silence.

“Jesus. Did it hit you?” asks Carrie, ushering me inside. She’s locking the back door and shooting the dead bolt for good measure. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I show her the stone I’m still holding, rubbing my thumb over its rough surface. “It’s too small to do much damage. I don’t think it was really meant to hurt me.” Just scare me. I take another look out the kitchen window, but the pitch black of the night has a firm hold.

“But who the hell is out there throwing stones?” Carrie’s eyebrows are pinched together in concern. “Is there a teenage delinquent problem here that I don’t know about?”

“If there is, I haven’t heard of it either.” A thought occurs to me. “I suppose it could be the person who delivered the newspaper.” Though the vicious scarlet circles around the article suggested a stronger intent than throwing little more than a pebble. That person would have thrown a boulder.

“Should we report it?” asks Carrie as I try to wipe off my feet with kitchen roll.

“I don’t know what the police could do. I didn’t see anything.”

“I suppose.” I can see she doesn’t like the feeling of helplessness. That makes two of us.