19“Which door will your husband come through?” The man stood at the bathroom door. “Stop crying and tell me which door your husband will use.”
“The front,” the woman pushed through her sobs. “He usually comes through the front.”
The intruder believed she was being truthful but could not rely on it. After a quick look out the window facing the front yard he walked into the kitchen to search the cabinets. Time was rushing at him as the husband could return any moment. He grabbed a plastic bucket from below the kitchen sink, filled it with water and threw a bar of soap in it before putting it at the threshold of the back door. Unable to find a mop, he took a broom leaning against the side of the refrigerator and placed across the bucket. The back door opened outward, into the yard, so the h
