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Just . . . weak."
    "Mom? What's going on?"
    I turned to see Lauren in the hall, surveying the unknown man with curiosity.
    "Don't worry, sweetie. This is just a detective from the police department. He's here to ask questions about something that happened at Daddy's work."
    "At work? Then why's he here?"
    "Daddy's coming home in a minute to talk to him."
    "Is Daddy okay?"
    "He's fine."
    "What happened?"
    "Lauren." My tone edged. "Go finish your homework."
    She gave Jud Maxwell a long, unconvinced look before turning back to the kitchen.
    I leaned against the wall, looking blankly at the detective. He raised his eyebrows. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk? Looks like you need to sit down."
    "Yes."
    I led him slowly through the living room and into Brock's wood-paneled office. There I motioned him into one of the overstuffed armchairs. I half fell into the second one before realizing I hadn't shut the door. I eyed it, overcome with weariness. I'd have to get up again.
    The muted sound of a door closing drifted from the other end of the house. Relief washed through me. "Brock's home." I listened to him exchange hurried greetings with Lauren and assure her everything was okay.
    "Mom's sick," Lauren said.
    "I know."
    His swift footsteps approached. Jud rose. Brock barreled into the room and closed the door, his eyes on me. His tie, usually so perfect, lay askew, his face flushed. The power he always exuded filled the room, but now it mixed with frightened agitation.
    "How are you?" He crossed to me, ignoring Jud, and leaned down to search my face. His gaze was that of both husband and doctor, assessing, evaluating. He placed his hands on either side of my neck, feeling for swollen glands. Rested his fingers against my forehead. I knew he felt no swelling or fever, yet his eyes clouded. The gravity of his gaze filled me with fear. Clearly, he could tell I was much worse than when he last saw me.
    Brock hadn't looked at me with such concern in a long time.
    Sodden hope for our marriage stirred. I'd been praying for something to change our errant course, something to push us back on a stable path. Maybe this was it. My husband did love me. Maybe I'd just read too much into his recent extra hours at work. He was a busy man.
    "I'm . . . okay." I gave him a lopsided smile, even as tears filled my eyes.
    Brock patted my shoulder, then turned to the detective. "Jud, thank you for coming so quickly."
    "No problem. Glad to help."
    The men shook hands. Brock motioned for Jud to resume his seat in the armchair. Brock pulled his rolling work chair around to the front of his desk. He leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. "Jannie," he said before Jud could speak. "Tell us what's happened."
    "Wait a sec." Jud reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small tape recorder. "If you don't mind I need to record this."
    "Oh. Sure." Brock glanced over his shoulder at the desk. "Can you set it here?"
    "Yeah."
    Brock rolled his chair a little to his left. Jud set the tape recorder on the desk and hit a button. He related the date, time, and address. "Interview with Janessa McNeil and her husband, Dr. Brock McNeil." He pulled a small pad of paper and pen from his shirt pocket. "Let's first get your phone numbers, home, work, and cells."
    My cell number? I couldn't remember.
    Brock rattled off each number. Jud wrote them down as the tape recorder rolled.
    "All right. Thanks. Now." Jud looked at me. "Tell us what happened."
    I licked my lips. Where to start? For a long moment my mind whited out. I could feel both men watching me, waiting. My cheeks heated.
    "Jannie?" Brock leaned forward and tapped me on the knee.
    I stared at his finger . . . and my brain realigned. "You remember that dream I've had the last few nights? About the bug-eyed man in our bedroom?"
    Brock nodded.
    "That really happened. The man said he was wearing night goggles."
    Righteous anger flicked across Brock's face. "Go on."
    I told them what I could.