Someone is in the house.
I froze, fear arrowing up my spine. Fighting the urge to panic, I dragged my shirt back over my head. There was no way to call for help. My mobile was downstairs, and we didn’t have a landline in our bedroom. What if I made a run for it? But the primary bedroom was at the end of the hall. I’d have to go past all the other bedrooms to reach the stairs.
Think, Amira, think.I forced a calming breath, but it was more like a shallow huff. My heart slammed against my rib cage. How should I react if the intruder confronted me? I looked around wildly for something to protect myself with.
My gaze landed on the briefcase-like fireproof safe on the floor of Ali’s closet. Ali stored titles to the cars and other important documents, like the passports and birth certificates, in the metal box. I grabbed it, clutching the handle, and imagined swinging the portable safe up to bash the intruder in the head. Maybe I’d stun him long enough to reach the stairs and escape to safety.
I stood completely still, listening for the intruder, although it was hard to hear anything over the pounding in my ears. The footsteps hadstopped, the silence broken only by my breath sawing in and out of my chest. I crept toward the bedroom door, trying not to make a sound. Downstairs, a door slammed so hard, the windows shook.
“Help!” I screamed, assuming someone had just come in. It wasn’t logical, but it was the first thought that came to me. “Someone broke in!”
The house was silent again. Offering no help. No hope or comfort. Had the intruder slammed the door on his way out? Maybe he was gone.
My legs were shaky as I shoved the chair away from the door and quietly pulled it open. I peered out of the window at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t see much outside in the front yard, but movement near the street caught my eye. Someone running in the shadows. The intruder? I could barely make the figure out. No way to tell if it was a man or a woman.
Trying to regulate my breathing, I went to the nearest room, Ali’s office. The light was on. The drawers were all pulled open, and what few papers had been on the desk were strewn across the floor. I backed away, shock rippling through me. This scene had nothing to do with my overactive imagination or paranoia. Someone had actually broken into my house. But why?
What were they looking for?
“There’s a sensor on every window,” Nasser said a few hours later. After a couple of uniformed police officers left, he’d gone out to buy a security system. It was after ten o’clock by the time he finished installing it. “I’ve put the app on your phone. Any time a door or window opens, you’ll get a notification.”
Still rattled, I tried to focus on his instructions. “Do I have to turn it off and on?”
“No, you can leave it on all the time.”
Needing something to keep my hands busy, I gathered the security packaging and went to the kitchen. “What do you think they wanted?”
“Since the intruder seemed to only focus on Ali’s office, we have to assume they were after something Ali had.”
“But what? He rarely worked from home or brought any business papers home.”
“Maybe the officers who responded tonight will be able to come up with something.”
Pulling open the disposal drawer in the island, I automatically separated the trash from the recyclables. I was still partially in shock. I couldn’t believe someone had broken into my house. Had I interrupted a burglary? “This all seems unreal. Ali was just a regular guy, and suddenly I’m caught up in all this craziness.”
He set a booklet down on the counter. “Here’s the guide to the security system in case you need it. Tomorrow we’ll see about installing a doorbell camera so you don’t have to open the door to speak to strangers. Plus, it might be a good idea to install outdoor cameras.”
I was on board with all of that. “The more security, the better. But I insist on paying you back for the security system you bought me today. I will not take no for an answer.”
He raised his palms toward me. “I know better than to fight with you.”
“Good, and I’m giving you dinner for installing it.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s too late to eat—” he began.
I opened the fridge. “I have leftovermaklooba.”
He switched course. “You know I never turn down Arabic food.”
“That’s what I thought.” I made us two plates of the rice, fried vegetable, and lamb dish that was cooked in a lamb broth, and heated it in the microwave.
The doorbell rang.
“Who’s that?” Nasser asked, half standing.
“Why don’t you sit down and eat while your food is hot. I’ll get the door. It’s probably Lulu.”
“Make sure you check to see who it is before you open the door.”
