kitchen.
He jerked upright and hit the mute button on the remote. More glass tinkled and he jumped to his feet. What the hell was that? Had the cat knocked something over in the kitchen? Or was there a more sinister explanation?
David rose cautiously, looking around him for a potential weapon. There wasn't much to choose from, He being something of a minimalist when it came to interior design. He snatched up a heavy crystal vase, slender enough at the neck to fit neatly into his hand. He crossed the room on tiptoe, ears straining for a sound, heart racing. He thought he heard a crunching noise, as if glass were being crushed underfoot. Anger rose alongside fear. Some jakie or junkie was invading his home looking for the price of a bottle of Buckie or a wrap of smack. His natural instinct was to call the police then sit tight. But he was afraid they'd take too long to get there. No self-respecting burglar would settle for what they could find in the kitchen; they'd be bound to look for better pickings and he'd be forced to confront whoever had invaded his home. Besides, he knew from experience that if he picked up the phone in here, the extension in the kitchen would click, revealing what he was up to. And that might really piss off whoever was raiding his house. Better to try a direct approach. He'd read somewhere that most burglars are cowards. Well, maybe one coward could scare off another one.
Taking a deep breath to still his alarm, David inched open the living room door. He peered down the hall, but the kitchen door was closed and offered no indication of what might be going on on the other side of it. But now he could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone moving around. The rattle of cutlery as a drawer was pulled open. The slap of a cupboard door closing.
To hell with it. He wasn't going to stand idle while someone trashed the place. He walked boldly down the hall and threw the kitchen door open. "What the hell's going on here?" he shouted into the darkness. He reached for the light switch, but when he flicked it on, nothing happened. In the faint light from outside, he could see glass sparkling on the floor by the open back door. But there was nobody in sight. Had they gone already? Fear made the hair on his neck and naked arms stand on end. Uncertainly, he took a step forward into the gloom.
From behind the door, a blur of movement. David swung round as his assailant cannoned into him. He had an impression of medium height, medium build, features obscured by a ski mask. He felt a blow to the stomach; not enough to make him double over, more like a jab than a punch. The burglar took a step backward, breathing heavily. At the same moment David realized the man was holding a long-bladed knife, he felt a hot line of pain inside his guts. He put a hand to his stomach and wondered stupidly why it felt warm and wet. He looked down and saw a dark spreading stain swallowing the white of his T-shirt. "You stabbed me," he said, incredulity his first reaction.
The burglar said nothing. He drew his arm back and thrust again with the knife. This time, David felt it slice deep into his flesh. His legs gave way beneath him and he coughed, slumping forward. The last thing he saw was a pair of well-worn walking boots. From a distance, he could hear a voice. But the sounds it was making refused to cohere in his head. A jumble of syllables that made no sense. As he drifted away from consciousness, he couldn't help thinking it was a pity.
When the phone rang at twenty to midnight, Lynn expected Alex's voice, apologizing for the lateness of the hour, telling her he was just leaving the restaurant where he'd been entertaining a potential client from Gothenburg. She wasn't prepared for the banshee wail that assaulted her as soon as she lifted the bedside receiver. A woman's voice, incoherent, but clearly anguished. That was all she could make out to begin with.
At the first gulp for breath, Lynn jumped in. "Who is this?" she demanded, anxious and afraid.
More panicked sobs. Then, finally, something that sounded familiar. "It's me?He'd. God help me, Lynn, this is terrible, terrible." Her voice caught and Lynn heard an incoherent