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She couldn't make it out clearly. The mist was thickening, and whoever it was ducked back behind a row of bushes when the light hit. But there was someone there; it wasn't just her nerves on a rainy night. She wasn't going to wait for the prowler to come to her. It might not be the same one who killed Nancy, but she was calling the police. Now.
She tightened her grip on the heavy flashlight. It would serve as light and defense both, since it had enough weight to be used as a weapon in case someone did get in. She went back to the family room, turning on all the light as she entered, and made her way across to the phone. She dialed 911, and in a few quick words told the calm voice on the other end that there was a prowler outside, please send someone, this address, thank you. As she hung up, the shatter of breaking glass came from the kitchen.
Alice screamed. As if in answer, the wail of a child awaken abruptly came from upstairs. More tinkles of falling and breaking glass came from the kitchen, then Shannon's voice echoed down the stairwell.
"Mom-m-m-meeee!" The terror in the five-year-old's voice galvanized Alice, and she sprang for the stairs, still gripping the flashlight as though it were a club. She rushed into the child's room, flipping on the light as she entered. The little girl was sitting up in bed, crying and wide eyed. Alice shut the door, then dragged the heavy rocker in front of it. No one was going to get into this room that easily. The child's eyes grew still wider at this barricading of the door. Alice had to calm her down; she didn't want the girl's hysteria drawing the intruder. Alice sank down onto the bed and took the girl in her arms, rocking and crooning to her as though she were much younger than five.
They sat that way for almost five minutes. Alice took comfort from the solid weight of the warm child in her arms. Shannon was real, not a shadowy phantom out in the mist. Finally, Alice relaxed slightly. The noise must have scared him off.
It took her almost another five minutes to get Shannon quiet and ready for sleep again. Alice didn't tell her the scream and breaking glass noises were real; let that wait for daylight. She assured the child several times that no, bad dreams couldn't get out and hurt you. Shannon didn't ask about the rocker, and Alice figured it was safer to ignore it as well. It would be difficult explaining why she'd blocked the door against imaginary fears.
Then, leaving the hall light on for comfort, Alice headed back down the stairs, once more holding the flashlight like a club in case her own bad dream did get in. She was almost to the foot of the stairs when a banshee siren filled the night. The police arrived moments later, lights flashing. If the prowler hadn't been scared off by her scream and Shannon's shrieks, he surely was by this conspicuous arrival. Alice was already back upstairs, trying once more to calm a re-frightened Shannon. When the police pounded on the door, she scooped the girl up in her arms, blanket and all, and carried her down the stairs with her.
The next quarter of an hour was a study in madness to make the famous Tea Party look mild. Shannon had settled into a state of near-hysterics, which Alice tried to calm while trying simultaneously to answer the police questions. With the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Eisen, called home by the police, some semblance of order was imposed. They took Shannon back up to bed. Mrs. Eisen stayed with her, while Mr. Eisen returned to monitor the police questions. Upstairs, Shannon's sobs finally faded away, as the police asked Alice to describe her actions yet again.
"...and when I was sure I really saw someone, and when he ducked, I went in and called 911."
"You say 'he'. I thought you couldn't see the figure that clearly?" The uniformed man was carefully writing down each word she uttered. He had looked sharply at her when she had given her name. Of course, she thought bitterly, it's known around the police headquarters by now.
"I couldn't. I just assumed it was male, but honestly, it could have been anyone. It was just a figure."
"And the window was broken...when?"
"Right after I hung up." She was glad at least it wasn't Higgins, but she had no doubt he would be getting a full report the first thing in the morning.
As the questioning went on, Alice's stomach clenched tighter. They didn't believe her. The glass she had heard shattering was from the window alongside the back door. It lay in shards all over the counter. But there was nothing to show what had been used to break it, no rock on the ground or inside the kitchen. Nothing. It would have been easy for Alice to have opened the back door, break the window so the glass fell into the house, and relock and chain the back door. She knew she hadn't done that, but the police seemed to think she had. She'd read enough Agatha Christies and watched enough Colombo reruns to know the pattern. It always happened in the second quarter hour of the show; the villain would fake a crime so she would look like the target. It had never occurred to Alice that the same sort of thing really could happen to an innocent victim.
Mr. Eisen hadn't said much during the entire time they were asking questions, but his face had grown grimmer. Finally, there were sounds of another car outside, and the officer who'd been questioning her left the room. She hung her head, ducking her chin in the old habit she'd been trying to break.
"Alice, I don't know what to say. We heard the rumors you were involved in those burglaries, and we didn't believe them." Alice raised her head at this, appalled. They had known, and they had trusted her anyway. And now--oh, please, God, no. But he went on, inexorably. "I'm afraid we can't ask you to work for us any more. I know you say there was a prowler, but, frankly... Alice, I don't know what we can believe any more. I do know one thing. Shannon's likely to have nightmares for a month from what went on here tonight. Now, whether you're innocent or not, we can't risk having that happen again."
"I'm sorry." Once more, her head was down, her hair now concealing her face completely and with it, the tears. "I'll pay for the window."
"That won't be necessary. Here..." He pulled out his wallet, and paid her enough to cover the evening at her full rate, even the time spent with the police since they'd been home. She tried to turn it down, but he insisted, as though he refused to be indebted to her in any way.
The man who'd been asking her questions came back in, followed by a newcomer. Alice's heart sank another few inches. It was Detective Higgins. Obviously they'd gotten him out of bed for this one, and they'd already brought him up to date. The routine started again, covering the same tired ground, but this time with Higgins asking the questions.
The session was mercifully brief. At last, Higgins said she was free to go. She turned awkwardly to Mr. Eisen. She hated to ask him for a ride, but that had been the arrangement, as it was much too late for her to walk. Before he could say anything, Higgins volunteered. Alice didn't want a ride from the Grand Inquisitor, but a look at Mr. Eisen's tight face decided her. She gathered her books.
They rode in silence most of the way. She was profoundly grateful for that much. As they approached her home, Higgins broke the tense stillness.
"You know, I think you're a good kid who got yourself in over your head. You have a rep for hard work. Lot of studying, extra curricular stuff, all the babysitting. And helping your dad on the swap meet stuff. You just got a little too hungry for some cash, and you got mixed in with the wrong people. Let me tell you something, Alice. I don't know if you saw Nancy with her head bashed in like that, but it wasn't pretty. And the same thing is likely to happen to you if you don't open up and level with us. You may think your friends wouldn't do that to you. Well, tell Nancy that, or Nancy's parents."
He stopped in the Flemings' drive and turned to her. "If you tell us who's in this with you, I think we can arrange to go a bit easier on you. You're still a juvenile. The law lets us try you as an adult on a serious enough crime, and this is. But we don't have to, and as a juvenile you'd draw a lighter sentence and have a chance to start fresh again some day. What do you say, Alice?"
She shook her head, not saying anything. There was no way she could convince him. After a few minutes he sighed. She got out and stood there for a moment. Finally, she gave a little shrug. It was hopeless.
"Thanks for the ride." She turned to go into the house.
"Good night, Alice. Think about what I said."