She follows his blank, caught-in-the-headlights stare, but at first she does not see what could have given this muscular man such a fright. Then she looks past her reflection in the window next to the door and sees a shadowy figure outside. She peers closer. A man’s face appears to be floating in the air. It is partially lit by the yellow porch light but the bright bluish interior light sneaks into some shadows, giving it a ghostly white complexion. The face looks a little bit like it could belong to one of those actors that play rough, burly detectives with guns bigger than their egos, always flashing their badges at everybody. But this man is not holding anything. Instead a laughs in a high-pitched voice and rattles the doorknob.

She shakes her companion by the shoulders and shouts “Tony, Tony, wake up. We need phone the police. Come on!” She grabs his hand, dragging him into the house, leaving the cackling maniac banging at the door behind. They rush up the stairs into the safety of the master bedroom.