Amanda backed away from the window and unzipped her jacket. But she left it on. She folded her arms across her chest. “Something bumped against the garbage cans. I heard them knock together. And it’s not really that windy tonight. Not enough to rattle the cans like that.”

“Maybe it was a cat. Or those raccoons we saw last week. Once they find a food source, they’re going to come back.”

“Of course I thought of that, Ryan. And if that was all that happened, I wouldn’t be worried. But then I heard the back door rattle.” She pointed to the door I had just come through, the one we used the most to enter and exit the house, the one that led right out to the driveway and the detached garage. “Ryan, someone was trying to get in here. I swear. They pulled on this door handle a few times.”

Every nerve and fiber in my body was pulled as tight as an overtuned guitar string. I’d expected to find peace and quiet at home. Not more craziness.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Amanda gave me a withering look. Her head cocked to one side, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “You know I don’t get riled up over stuff like this, Ryan. I’m not a scaredy-cat like some people we know.”

She was right. Amanda had a friend named Jane who had called the police three different times when her boyfriend was out of town and she thought someone was breaking into her house. Once it was a branch rubbing against the roof. Once a cat. And once she called the police because a piece of siding had come loose and fallen into the backyard. She no longer stayed home alone when her boyfriend went out of town. She spent those nights sleeping in her childhood bedroom just down the hall from her parents.

“We looked around outside,” the cop said, the one with the razor burn. “We saw some tracks out there, ones that went along the back of the house. Was there any reason for someone to be out there?”

“I don’t know. Who knows when the tracks were made?”

“It’s been raining a lot lately,” the cop said. “They must be pretty new. Did you see anything just now, when you were coming in?”

“I ran in. I saw your car, and I thought the worst.”

“Have you seen or heard anything unusual recently? Anything at all?”

Had I seen anything unusual? Yes, I wanted to say. A dead woman. On the floor of her bedroom. A dead woman who sent me a ghostly Facebook friend request.

Stone dead.

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.”

“No one suspicious hanging around? No property missing or signs of a break-in?”