Dust to Dust

brought her out of her comfortable stupor, but she didn’t move. It rang again. Anyone who would come to her for an emergency would call her cell. So it was probably not any of her crew or anyone at the museum. It wouldn’t be Garnett, Hanks, or Kingsley. They had her number. So did Star, Frank’s daughter. Frank wouldn’t knock; he had her cell number and a key. They all had her number. It probably wasn’t a neighbor with some emergency. There were closer houses than Frank’s to run to. Same for a road emergency. There were closer houses to go to for help. Frank’s house was in the middle of a double lot with lots of trees.
    It wasn’t anything she needed to attend to. They would just have to return during civilized hours to ring the doorbell. Diane closed her eyes again.
    The doorbell rang again. This time they leaned on it. They banged the door with their fist.
    “Okay, this is obnoxious,” said Diane. She submerged a moment, then came up and rubbed her hands over her hair, squeezing the water out of it.
    It must be a drunk , she thought. Or someone who had the wrong address. Or maybe it was a process server for some unknown thing someone was suing her for. Whatever it was, she decided not to face it naked. She got out of the tub, dried off, and slipped on underwear and sweats. She dried her hair with a towel. All the while, whoever it was banged on the door and rang the bell. Damn it. What the hell?
    She slipped her feet into her fleece-lined house shoes and walked into the bedroom. The ringing stopped. Great, she should have waited longer. She started for a front window to see if she could get a glimpse of a car. The outside security lights came on in the yard on the bedroom side of the house.
    The pissant was coming around the house. She turned out the light in the bedroom, walked to the stairs, and peered down to the foyer. She heard someone rattle the back door. Time to call the police and ask them to send a car.
    She nearly fell down the stairs when the gunshots were fired. Someone was breaking into the house with a very large gun. Diane didn’t hesitate. She ran to the chest of drawers in the closet and got her gun and ammunition clips. She carried them and her cell up to the attic. She closed the door at the top of the attic stairs and pulled a large chest in front of it. Light from the security lamps shined through one of the dormer windows, giving the attic a spooky glow. She called 911 and explained to them what was happening. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, shoved a clip into the butt of the gun, loaded a round into the chamber, and clicked on the safety.
    “Stay on the line, ma’am,” the operator said.
    “Can’t. I think he is in the house. I’ll call back when I can.”
    “Ma’am, stay . . .”
    Diane hung up and called Chief Garnett for good measure.
    “I’ll make sure they are on their way,” he said. “You have a gun?”
    “Yes. I’m holed up in the attic. This is some bold home invader. He must know the police are about to come,” she said.
    She listened for footfalls. Frank’s house didn’t have carpet. He had polished wood floors and sound reverberated off them. She heard the footsteps downstairs. Diane took up a position behind a large trunk near the wall. She knew it was filled with Frank’s old National Geographic magazines. They ought to be a fairly decent bullet stopper. This vantage had a view of the door but was not in front of it. If he came up the stairs and began blasting through the lock and moved the chest of drawers, she would have time to shoot before he got to her. It seemed like a good plan.
    Only now did Diane notice that her heart was racing and she was sick to her stomach. She heard footsteps on the main stairs. Maybe he wouldn’t find the attic stairs. They were hidden in the bedroom closet.
    Her cell rang. Damn, she forgot to put it on vibrate. She answered with a whisper.
    “Diane, are you all right? You sound hoarse. This is Vanessa. Mother remembered—”
    “Can’t talk now, Vanessa. I’ll call back.”
    A booming gunshot slammed against the attic door.
    “Is that gunfire?” said Vanessa.
    “Yes. Got to go.”

Chapter 41
    Diane dropped the cell, rested her shaking arms on the trunk, and aimed the gun at the doorway. If he came straight through the doorway, he might not think to turn to the right until it was too late. He would have to lean into the door to move the chest. He would be off balance. That would give