Jo was afraid to move. She was afraid not to move. Someone had been in her house – shit, had been in her room – and she had no way of knowing if they were gone or or simply lying in wait.

Being the youngest of three - and the only daughter - Jo had never been the girlie girl her mother had hoped for. She also wasn’t a boy, so her dad didn’t know what to do with her, either. Instead, she followed her brothers while they played football and baseball, rode their bikes around the neighborhood, worked on cars and built things with their own hands. So, although she was a petite five foot six with long, blonde curls, she could definitely take care of herself.

Jo made a mental note to get a nightstand and a lamp and then dashed to the switch o...

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