Who is it?

Tori heard the screen door open and bang shut. "Ginny?"

No one responded and Tori heard no footsteps. She had become able to tell a visitor by the sound of his or her footfall. Her sister was a gentle striker. So much so that, some times, it was as though she floated on air. "Ginny? Is your voice that bad?"

Dorothy wagged her tail and nudged Tori's hand when the shadow fell across the rug. "What is it, Dorothy? Who's here?"

The shadow retreated. Tori shivered and jumped to her feet. Dorothy stood and blocked her from travel.

"Who's here?"

She heard running, Mary's, and the squeaking, then banging, of the screen door. "Mary?"

Mary, flushed, ran into the room. "I'm sorry, Victoria. I had trouble finding your shoes, I'll tell ya. Sit down, I'll help you lace them up and we'll go."

"Mary, did you go out and come back in by chance?"

"No. I was in your closet. Why?"

"Someone was here."

"Couldn't have been."

"I heard the door open and close and when I asked who was here, nobody answered me."

"It was probably just the breeze. The screen door ain't latched."

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