The Night Crew

toward the porch. They could see her face when she first opened the truck door, and her figure as she hurried under the yard light to the porch.
    ‘‘That’s Daly,’’ Harper said.
    ‘‘Jeez, do you think she knows?’’ Anna asked.
    ‘‘She looks mad about something.’’ The woman fumbled at the door, unlocking it, then pushed inside and flicked on a light. She slammed the door behind her, but before she did, they heard her shout, ‘‘Steve?’’
    ‘‘Wonder what happened?’’ Harper asked.
    ‘‘I don’t know, but if he’s still in the house, and we want to move up, this is the time. If he’s in there, it sounds like he’ll have his hands full,’’ Anna said.
    They crawled back out through the garage door, circled back around the barn, into the darkness of the brush, and came up behind the house, near the corrals. An animal made a spitting sound as they passed: ‘‘What the hell was that?’’ Harper whispered.
    ‘‘I don’t know; I hope it doesn’t bite.’’
    They stopped at the side of the corral, and looked across the intervening fifty feet at the house.
    ‘‘Gonna have to decide something,’’ Harper said.
    ‘‘Whatever’s in the corral. Probably the llama. I don’t think they’re dangerous,’’ Anna said. ‘‘I’m gonna roll through there and work my way up to the gate. If I don’t see anything, I’m gonna make a run across the yard—you get ready with the rifle.’’
    ‘‘Maybe I oughta make the run.’’
    ‘‘No. You’ve got the rifle, I’ve just got this thing,’’ Anna said, holding up the pistol. ‘‘At fifty feet I might not be able to hit the house.’’
    As she said it, she slipped under the lowest rail of the corral. Whatever was in the corral stayed at the back. She could hear it stomping nervously, maybe the llama, maybe a pony, as she moved to the gate.
    Taking a breath, she glanced back at the spot where she’d left Jake, and stuck one leg through the gate.
    BAAAAAZZZZZZZZ . . .
    The buzzer sounded like the end of the world, as loud as a jet plane, fifteen feet overhead.
    In a half-second, she knew exactly what had happened: the gate was alarmed, just like the gate at the bottom of the hill. A light beam or movement sensor was probably buried in the gatepost, out beyond the gate itself, so an animal inside the corral couldn’t set it off—but she’d put her leg right through it.
    She’d been so occupied with the thought of closing on the house that she hadn’t thought to look. And she didn’t stop to think when the buzzer went. Instead, she scrambled sideways, across the corral, to the far corner, holding tight to the pistol.
    The buzzing went on for three or four seconds, and then, just as abruptly, stopped. For another twenty seconds, nothing moved inside the house, and Anna, watching the back door, began to relax.
    ‘‘Anna?’’ Jake’s stage whisper cut through the dead silence. She turned her head to answer when the back door banged open, and what looked like a drunk staggered onto the back porch, twisting, turning in the dim light.
    ‘‘Anna?’’ The voice. She knew it this time. ‘‘Anna, I know you’re out there.’’
    Anna, straining toward the turning figure, finally made it out: not one person, but two. A man with his arm around a woman’s neck, the woman struggling against him; and when her struggles became too violent, he would lever her off the ground until she stopped.
    ‘‘Anna . . .’’ Judge was screaming her name. Anna said nothing. Maybe he’d decide that an animal had set off the alarm. Maybe he’d come out where they could get at him: but at the moment, the woman’s body blocked any possibility of a shot.
    ‘‘Are you out there? I know you’re out there.’’ The struggle on the porch started again, and Anna lifted the pistol and aimed it, took it down again: no way.
    ‘‘Anna . . .’’ He was bawling into the night. Then: ‘‘You think I’m fucking around? Think again, huh? Think again, Anna.’’
    He moved back toward the door, reached inside, and clicked on a yellow porch light.
    ‘‘I know you’re out there. You like to make movies? Make a movie of this.’’
    He suddenly kicked the struggling woman’s legs from beneath her and she went down. At the same moment, he let go of his grip on her neck. She landed on one thigh and her hand, twisted, head down: the man pointed his hand at her head and there was a sudden crack, and an arrow of flame, and the woman