Page 71 of Little Girls Sleeping

“That’s how it’s going to go, no objections.” He stood his ground.

“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “I’m too tired to argue.”

After the team from the sheriff’s department had left, Katie began to clean up the worst of the mess. She would save the rest for the next day. Exhaustion had set in, her physical and mental capabilities suffering from the overload of the case, which had now crept into her home life.

The silence wasn’t a comforting friend; rather, it became a questionable and unnerving reminder that there was someone out there who wanted to scare her—and possibly harm her.

“I finally got the door lock to work,” said McGaven.

His voice startled Katie and she responded quickly. “Thank you. I guess someone will be fitting the alarm and a new door tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry? For what?”

“That you’re going through this along with everything else.” His voice faded a bit.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here. I’ll be just fine. There will be people coming tomorrow morning, probably early, to install everything.”

“Nope. I have my orders,” he said adamantly.

“Did you call your wife?” she asked.

“Girlfriend,” he corrected. “Don’t worry, she knows what’s been going on. Her dad and brother are cops, so she’s very understanding.” He smiled.

Katie couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his girlfriend.

“I can take the couch,” he said.

“Nope, there’s a guest room for you—it has a private bath, too. It looks like the intruder didn’t bother to deface that room,” Katie said sourly.

McGaven followed her to the room that had been her parents’ bedroom.

“I’ll make the last rounds with Cisco,” he announced.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m beat. I’m going to try to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he said as he went to check the doors for the umpteenth time, and most likely make a loop around her backyard for good measure.

Katie fell asleep immediately, but her slumber was erratic as she tossed and turned, waking frequently. Each time, she listened intently for any sound that seemed out of place.

A soft creak.

A hurried footstep.

A door slowly opening.

It was always the same. Quiet. The only sound she heard was Cisco snoring at the corner of her bed. She listened to his steady breathing for a few minutes, and the sound relaxed her enough to fall back to sleep.

Suddenly she heard a low, menacing voice: “You will never find me.”

Jolted awake, she sat up expecting there to be someone at the foot of her bed. Of course, there was no one. She waited another minute, but no sound interrupted the silence.

Letting out a long sigh, she leaned back against her headboard. It was still dark outside, and too early to get up. Sleep was a necessity, but she wouldn’t waste moments of wakefulness because she never knew how long her days were going to be.

She reached over to her nightstand and retrieved her journal from the small drawer. She was relieved that it had been tucked in a safe place. Switching on the lamp and opening the book to a clean page, she began to write.

Friday, 0430 hours