But I really didn’t want to. Given Amanda’s usually calm demeanor and tendency not to exaggerate such things, it seemed there was a very good chance that someone had tried to come in the back door. And if that was the case, then who was it?

The same person who had killed Jennifer?

Did that person know where I lived? Had they come to the house to harm Amanda and Henry?

I couldn’t believe it was just a random coincidence that on the night I stumbled into the middle of a murder scene, some burglar also decided to try to break into our house.

Should I have told the cops about all of that?

How exactly would I have explained that to them?

“You just had the cops here,” I said. “They dealt with it. They weren’t too worried. They wanted to talk about basketball. I don’t need to go out there like I’m Han Solo or John Wick. You always say the police are there for a reason. We pay taxes. So we put them to work. You heard that cop—he said they’d be around.”

“I know. They are. But just look yourself, okay? It would make me feel better if you did it. Check to make sure that entrance to the crawl space is secure. You know it comes loose sometimes. And make sure nothing’s missing. Or I can do it and you can stay in here with Henry.” Amanda watched me, her arms still crossed.

“Will this make you feel better?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then I’ll do it. For you. And you’re sure Henry’s okay?”

“I went up and checked on him before you came home.”

Before I went back out the door, I opened a closet in the hallway and brought out the battered aluminum bat I used in my summer softball league.

“Please don’t lock the door behind me once I’m out there,” I said.

Amanda didn’t hesitate. “I won’t.”

“You’ll help me if I scream. Right?”

“Of course. Unless you’re being chased by the boogeyman. Then you’re on your own.”

I opened the door and went back out into the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The bat rested on my shoulder, and I kept two hands wrapped around the handle in case I suddenly had to swing.

Did I really think I’d be willing to swing a baseball bat at somebody’s head? With the intent to harm or kill them?

And if I was right, the person who might have been sneaking around and trying the back door had already killed someone. They might be carrying a real weapon, a gun or a knife.

Maybe they’d seen me in Jen’s house and came by to polish me off for being a witness. Maybe they wanted to peek in the windows and watch my response to getting mystery friend requests.