“Yes,” I said. “I got a text. A photo of my house from the street. Then I heard a car door.”

“Call the local police right now,” Robert said. “Do not hang up with them until they arrive. I am calling my contact in the county sheriff’s department.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice cracking.

“I will stay on the line with you while you call them from another line, or I can call them for you.”

“Please call them,” I said. “I don’t want to hang up.”

“I am on it,” Robert said. “Stay where you are. Keep the lights off.”

The line went silent for a moment as he used another phone.

I sat on the stairs, holding the iron skillet in one hand and the phone to my ear with the other.

The silence in the house was absolute, broken only by the drip of the condensation outside.

A few minutes later, Robert’s voice returned.

“The local patrol is on their way,” he said. “They were two miles out, near the highway. They will be there in three minutes.”

“Thank you,” I breathed.