The Intruder

“911, what’s your emergency?”

           “Someone’s in my house,” I whispered into the phone.

           I’d barely fallen asleep when I was awakened by noises downstairs. Someone had broken in. At first, I’d assumed it was my cat, Ginger, but she was still curled up at the foot of my bed.

           “Where are you right now?” the dispatcher said.

           “Hiding in my closet.”

           I jumped as a loud crash carried up the stairs. Shying further back, I prayed the intruder wouldn’t come searching for me.

           “A squad car is on the way. Stay on the line with me until the officers arrive.”

           The sound of glass breaking sent a shiver up my spine. Come on, come on, come on, I thought, willing the police to speed up.

           The day I’d moved into the renovated barn fifteen miles out of town, I’d believed myself the luckiest girl alive. The beautiful, quiet location on the edge of Stockton Lake was an artist’s dream. I had only to glance out my window to find inspiration. In the two months since I’d moved in, I’d completed a dozen paintings. Creativity was flowing like a river after a heavy spring rain.

           Now I was questioning whether I’d made the right choice. Living in such an isolated location rendered me vulnerable to crooks. Latched windows could be smashed, locked doors could be busted open. In the time it took the police to arrive, a burglar could commit quite a bit of damage. Or was it they? Were there several? The thought sent a shiver up my spine.

           Something brushed up against my leg. A squeal of fright burst from my lips. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I hoped the sound hadn’t carried downstairs.

           “Ginger!” I hissed as the cat let out a soft meow. “You scared me witless.”

           Fat lot of good she was, hiding in the closet with me. Maybe it was time to consider a dog. Something brave and fierce-looking on the outside yet sweet and gentle as a lamb on the inside.

           Another crash produced a whimper. Where are you? I silently pleaded for the police to hurry.

“Are you okay?” the dispatcher said, her voice calm and reassuring.

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me cowering in the dark. “Yes.”

“Hang tight. Officers should arrive any second.”

The faint sound of a siren made my heart leap.

“They’re here. Thank you,” I said, then hung up.

The siren grew louder, luring me from my hiding place. Red and blue lights strobed the bedroom ceiling.

           “Police! Come out with your hands up.”

           I strained to listen. No one responded.

           “I repeat, come out with your hands up.”

           A second police car sped up the driveway, spitting up gravel. Car doors slammed. Voices barked orders.

           “This is your final warning. Come out now. We have the place surrounded.”

           Nothing. I waited a beat, then another. Suddenly, the front door burst open. Feet pounded inside, moving swiftly through the ground floor then up the stairs.

           “Clear. Clear. Clear,” voices called out, one after the other.

           Pulling my bathrobe tighter around me, I flipped on the bedroom light.

           “Hands up!” a burly man with a Glock yelled, swooping into the room.

           “I’m the one who made the 911 call,” I said, arms raised. His name tag read Jenkins. “I live here.”

           He noted the bathrobe and slippers and lowered his gun. “We don’t have eyes on the intruder yet but he left a mess in his wake.”

           As I trailed Officer Jenkins down the stairs, one of the other officers spoke into his shoulder mic. “Sir, we have located the suspect.”

           Jenkins gestured for me to stay put. Rushing down the last four steps, he sprinted into the kitchen. I heard a guffaw followed by several bursts of laughter.

Dashing down the stairs, I paused on the last step and drew in a breath. Lamps had been knocked to the floor, their glass domes shattered into fragments. Books lay in a heap, their bindings broken. Water from the cat’s dish had pooled under its base, staining the wood floor.

           A tall form stepped through from the kitchen, startling me. “We’ve located your intruder, ma’am.”

           The officer waved me into the kitchen. I stepped through the doorway, nervous, yet eager to meet the person responsible for those fifteen minutes of terror. Five officers surrounded the culprit, the hint of a smile on their faces.

           My eyes widened. “My Roomba?”

           “Somehow it must have switched itself on and was crashing into furniture, knocking the books and lamps over.”

           “I’m so sorry,” I said, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know what to say.”

           “Hey, no harm done – except to your house. If I were you, I’d unplug it when you go to bed or leave the house.” He pointed to the cat who had just wandered in. “Your cat might have accidentally activated it by stepping on the power button.”

“Ginger! Did you trigger all of this?”

           With a swish of her tail, my orange cat sauntered across the room and fled out the cat door.

           “Again, I’m so sorry I called you out here for nothing. Guess I should have gone down and checked.”

           “You did the right thing waiting for us. If there had been an armed intruder you might have been shot.”

           I watched them leave then wandered back into the house. I would need to call someone in the morning to fix my door. Fetching a dustpan and brush, I began sweeping up the broken glass. From the next room, I heard a faint bleep.

           Padding into the kitchen, I noticed the Roomba’s green light was lit. “Artificial intelligence? Right. More like artificial impudence. I have half a mind to trade you in for a broom or a vacuum cleaner. At least they won’t cause any damage.”

           With a loud bleep, the Roomba made an about-turn then made a break for it, sweeping through the cat door and out into the night.