“No! He started listing the good things bats do—like eating mosquitoes. I told him bats were rats with wings, and rats carried the bubonic plague. Who knew what the winged demons could do? There is a reason why bats are in horror movies. They belong with the destination of all other fiends of the world.” Edie sucked in air. “I’m still upset. Anyway, I escaped under the bed like a two-year-old, not a mother who’s supposed to defend her children. Timothy chased it with a broom and hollered for Livy to open the front and back doors. Between them, they chased the varmint out of the house. Me? I was too scared to crawl out from under the bed for a long time.”

An image of Edie paralyzed over a bat hit me as incredibly funny, and laughter rolled over me. The best prescription for sadness.

“I figured you’d view my nightmare as comic relief. Goodness, I’ve probably scarred my kids for life, requiring perpetual counseling.”

“Bats are scary. My first experience with a bat happened—” A car door slammed, and I peeked through the window to check on the visitor. Randy Hughes stumbled out of his truck and wobbled up the stony path to my front door. “Edie, your brother’s here. He appears to be drunk.”

“I’ll call Sheriff Wendall. Stay inside. He can be dangerous when he’s this way. Hang on while I click over.”

I stayed on the line while Randy clomped up a porch step. A second step, then a third.

“Are you there?” Edie said.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Randy pounded on the door.

“I heard that. Is he armed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shelby, open the door. This is Randy Hughes.” He slurred his words. “We need to talk.”

While I’d been at the wrong end of angry people before and faced the brunt of their hatred, I knew better than to face him. Irrational behavior shook me to the core. Where was the officer who watched my house? I texted him for help. My only recourse was to talk Randy down until officers arrived.

“Gotta go.” I pressed End before Edie could protest. “What do you want to discuss?”

“You caused me to get fired.”

Anger fueled my mouth and restraint slipped away. “Randy, I had nothing to do with your losing—”

“You owe me.”

The distant whine of a law enforcement siren sounded. “Officers are on their way. Why not sit on the porch? Once they’re here, I’ll brew coffee to sober you up.”

He swore and kicked the door. Although it was thick and sturdy, it had a breaking point, just like everything and everyone else.

Randy punched his fist through the window nearest the door. Glass shattered. Blood dripped from his knuckles. My home should be my sanctuary, not another prison. More glass cracked and fell to the floor. I hurried to the back door and flung it open. Safety lay ahead in the woods and bought me time.

I found refuge behind an oak tree and studied the front of my cabin. Randy had disappeared, and I assumed he was inside. How long should I hide here before moving deeper into the woods? Two police cruisers slid up next to Randy’s truck. Four men exited with their weapons drawn, including Sheriff Wendall. Two of them jogged to the rear of the cabin.