The car alarm made me jump; it was past ten.

I called upstairs, “The car alarm is going off!” No answer. I ran upstairs and hit the remote myself. Silence fell.

Wait… the car alarm had been sitting on the dresser, untouched. Nothing had accidentally set it off.

Worried, I crept back downstairs and flipped on the porch lights. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the front door.

The moon overhead was brilliant, casting deep shadows, and frost was just beginning to sparkle on the windshield. The yard was hushed; nothing seemed out of place.

No reason for anxiety! I crossed my arms against the chill and tiptoed out in my socks to check the far side of the car.

My gut clenched; that window was broken. I couldn’t see much in the inky pool of shadow beside the car, but the occasional shard of glass picked up the moonlight.

A liquid black puddle spread down the driveway toward the gutter, steaming in the frigid air. Something rustled in deepest shadow.

Heart racing, I turned and ran for the house.