Home alone, the sound of breaking glass wrenched Maggie from her sleep. Fear in icy tendrils prickled the nape of her neck. She held her breath, listening. Someone was in the house. Had she closed the bedroom door?
The top step in the hallway creaked. Maggie held back a scream. Perspiration beaded her forehead, little runnels slipping down between her breasts, soaking the front of her nightgown. Dear God, the door to her bedroom was wide open!
A shot rang out, a blinding flash in the darkness. Maggie’s ears were stunned to silence as the scream tore from her throat. She waited, listening, her eyes readjusting to the moonlight.
Gathering her courage, Maggie crept through the doorway. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air. It was nauseating. Smoke clung to her like a shroud and she could almost taste it.
Afraid to turn on the light, Maggie fumbled for the phone and then dialed.
“Nine-One-One. What is your emergency?”
“4011 Hilltop Road. Help me … I think I’ve shot an intruder. Hurry.”