* * *

Neither Sully nor Melissa was aware of the issue until Sully went down to Bloomer’s Hardware to pick up some caulking for a loose windowpane. He and Melissa had been in last week to get some washers to fix a leaky faucet, so he’d already met the man who’d fired Melissa from a twenty-year job. But with only one hardware store in town, holding grudges made no sense.

Sully noticed the police presence on the way there, and after he was in the store, he asked, “Hey, Fred. What’s going on with all the police?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? There’s an escapee from a state prison in the area. I just heard on the scanner that they found the stolen car he was in on the outskirts of town, so everyone is supposed to keep their cars and doors locked and stay inside.”

Sully frowned. “I need to call Melissa and let her know,” he said. “This tube of caulking is all I need.”

“Then let’s get you checked out,” Fred said, and headed to the register at the front of the store.

* * *

Trash day was tomorrow, and Melissa was going through the house emptying wastebaskets into the garbage bag she was carrying. She emptied the last one into the bag and then tied it shut and carried it to the utility room, where the garbage bag from the kitchen was sitting, and opened the back door. The kitchen bag was heaviest, and the trash cans were all the way at the other end of the house. She pulled both bags out onto the patio and then picked up the kitchen garbage and started walking. She reached the trash can, lifted the lid, and was about to put the bag inside when she saw a man trying to break into her car. He was pulling on every door in a frantic way.

Then he looked up, realized he’d been caught, and started running toward her to silence her before she could alert the authorities.

Melissa dropped the sack and ran screaming for the house. Her heart was pounding, her focus on the open door. All she had to do was get inside and lock him out.

She didn’t know he was gaining on her until she leaped up on the porch and heard the thump of his footsteps right behind her. She crossed the threshold and was turning to lock the door when he hit it with both hands and knocked her flat on her back on the kitchen floor.

She hit with a thud, but was scrambling back to her feet when he caught her again. She grabbed the carafe of leftover coffee and swung it toward his head, but he put up an arm to block the blow, and it hit his elbow and shattered instead.

“You bitch!” he screamed, looking at the blood running down his arm. When he looked up, she was already running through the house toward the front door.