Cora Timms was a three-wheeled trolley ride away from a nervous breakdown. Her neighbor, Patrick Hyde, warned her of a prowler in the neighborhood. She ran to lock the doors. Where was Ed?

He should've been home hours ago. The sharp ring of the phone cut through the air, and sent shivers jolting down her spine. Another ring. Was it Ed, or ... the wretched man who'd harassed her for several weeks? The thunder of the Arizona monsoon fed her near-phobic state. She was worried about her husband. She had to answer.

Cora held her breath as the caller's gruffness accosted her ear.

"You look as pretty as ever in your white pants and purple shirt, Cor-rah."

Her nervous fingers punched the off button of the cordless phone as her throat tightened with pent-up screams. She wiped perspiration from her hands and dialed her friend.

"Three threatening calls in one day, Dahlia. How could it be a coincidence? He can see me because he knows what I have on. I'm scared. Ed's two hours late. Could you come sit with me?"

"My pie's pert near done, so give me five minutes and I'll be over, Sugar. Meanwhile, shut them curtains, and make us a pot of industrial strength coffee."

The living room draperies billowed as Cora yanked them closed. Why hadn't Ed taken the calls more seriously? Where was he, anyway? Had he drowned in a flooded ditch, like their daughter, Vanessa? Her stomach coiled. Determined to keep her mind off negative thoughts, Cora headed for the kitchen.

The rich scent of coffee grounds permeated the kitchen as she counted scoops. Cora filled the glass carafe with water, and wiped the bottom with a linen towel. She jumped as a loud thud outside grabbed her attention. What was that?

A movement on the patio. Lightning flashed and illuminated two obscured figures struggling in the torrential rain.

She gasped and choked back a cry. She set the carafe on the counter, and stretched across the sink to lock the window. Her elbow hit the glass pot and knocked it to the floor with a crash.

The next burst of lightning revealed only one person, his hooded face staring at her.

Cora screamed and jumped back in alarm. Her foot slipped. The world tilted and went dark.

* * *

A baritone voice called through the muddled fog. "Cora?"

Her eyes fluttered. She heard her name again, inviting her back to consciousness.

"Can you hear me?"

Dazed, she blinked several times as her elderly neighbor came into focus.

Dr. Sam Richmond sat on the floor beside her, and lightly smacked her hand. A mix of spicy aftershave and coffee hung in the air.

She turned. A coffee can rested beside them, its grounds strewn about with broken glass and water.

Dr. Sam's white shaggy-dog eyebrows bobbed above pop bottle glasses, which magnified his eyes. A shock of unruly white hair topped his forehead, where drops of rain beaded.

What was he doing here?

Why was she spread-eagled on the kitchen floor? Cora pushed a lock of wet hair from her face, touched the throbbing lump on the back of her head and winced. "Ow! What happened?"

"I hoped you could tell me." Sam's arthritic fingers shoved his thick-lensed glasses up on his nose. He held two fingers to the pulse of her wrist and cleared his throat. "Do you recall how you got this knot on your head?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, in an attempt to remember. Vague images materialized in a cloud of gray. A gut feeling suggested she had witnessed something horrible. Another burs