I was fast asleep when my phone blasted me awake.
The device vibrated, vigorously rattling on the bedside table like it was trying to wriggle out of its protective case. Alternating high- and low-pitched beeps blared into my ears.
“What the—” Still half out of it, I fumbled around the bedside table, feeling for my phone. I knocked something onto the carpet. It was the pepper spray Nasser had gotten me. I slept with it by my bed every night.
I always silenced my phone before I went to sleep, so why was it making that unnerving noise? My fingertips finally brushed cool metal. My phone. I grabbed it and squinted at the screen, my eyes trying to adjust to the light. The phone flashed the time. One twenty a.m.
Below the time stamp, a message pulsed in glaring red. As my vision cleared, I saw the warning was coming from the home security system. My heart slamming, I tapped repeatedly on the app to see what was happening. The alert buzzed, pulsing in capitalized letters.
Intruder Alert!Intruder Alert!
I shot up to a sitting position. Adrenaline blasted through my veins. Instantly awake, I scrutinized my phone for more information. It took a moment to figure out what I was looking at. One of the window sensors that Nasser installed had triggered. I forced myself to calm down enoughto study the diagram to see which one. The window in the garage. One I’d never used and barely noticed. Had it been locked? I never checked that window.
At least the intruder wasn’t in the house. Yet. I always double-checked and double-locked the door that led to the garage. Anyone trying to break in from the garage wouldn’t easily access the house. My phone rang.
“Hello?” I whispered.
“Mrs. Abadi, this is First Shield Security calling; we have information that suggests an intruder has opened the window in your garage.”
“What do I do now?” I whispered into the phone, relieved that I was no longer completely on my own.
“Secure yourself in an upstairs room with the door locked. The police are already on the way.”
“OK. Thank you.” I leaped out of bed to make sure the bolt Nasser had installed for me was firmly in place. “Now what?”
“Stay on the line with me,” the security company agent said. “The police are six minutes away.”
“Six minutes?” That sounded like an eternity. I closed my eyes and forced deep breaths. The entire situation felt surreal, like it was happening to someone else. I scrambled back to the bedside to snatch the pepper spray off the carpet. I clutched the small canister to my chest. If confronted, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
“Are you still there?” The reassuring voice on the line calmed me a little.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m here.” Standing by my locked bedroom door, I strained to hear sounds of someone breaking into the house. But it was eerily silent. Until the house crackled, the floor settling somewhere. Or was it footsteps? Goose bumps prickled my skin. Where was the stranger? What did he want? More importantly, where the hell were the police?
“How much longer?” I whispered into the phone.
“They are two minutes away,” she said. “Help is almost there.”
I peeked through the curtains, watching the street for police vehicles. It seemed like forever, but a cruiser finally turned onto my street and came to a stop in front of my house.
“They’re here.” Relief whooshed through me, loosening my tense muscles.
“Hold tight while they secure the perimeter.” A few minutes later, the security lady told me it was safe to come out of my room and meet with the officers. I joined them in the garage.
“What did they want?” I asked, surveying the garage to see if anything looked disturbed. Not that it would be easy to tell. The place was its usual mess, littered with old bikes, sleds, dusty lawn equipment, and other old stuff that the slight pack rat in me wasn’t quite ready to throw away—in case I might need it in the future.
“It’s hard to tell.” Taking in the disarray around him, the officer probably wondered the same thing. “You have a security system, is that right?”
I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself. Shivering even though I wasn’t cold, I showed him the app on my phone. We studied the camera views together. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one aimed at the side of the garage. It never occurred to me that someone would try to come in that window.
“Can you tell if anything is missing?” the officer asked.
“Lots could be gone and I’d never know it,” I admitted. “There’s really nothing in this garage that’s worth anything except the cars.”
“We have had some incidents lately with teenagers breaking into cars and stealing items.”
I checked the van, and it looked the same as when I’d last driven it. But the glove compartment in Ali’s Honda was open, and the documents normally stored inside, the registration and car manual, were strewn on the floor of the passenger’s side.
“Must be the kids again.” The officer seemed convinced he’d cracked the case. “Did they take anything?”
