2:23 a.m.

Andrew tried to stay calm. He could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. Could it be a park worker? Someone who'd came to warn him about the storm or check up on him? Was it a knock on the door that had wakened him? It made sense. A park worker would have a key.

Damn! Had he even locked the door? Of course he had. He was a city boy. It was instinctive.

Then his stomach did a somersault. He wasn't sure the flimsy screen door to the porch had been locked. All the back-and-forth he and Tommy had done to the grill. And he knew he had left the door between the porch and the cabin unlocked. He always left it like that so he wouldn't accidentally lock himself out. He was in the middle of the woods, for God's sake. Why would he need to lock doors?

The intruder had to be a park worker. Someone checking to make sure he was okay. Someone who didn't call out because he didn't want to disturb him. Someone who-

He heard a floorboard creak. His eyes darted around the small bedroom as he tried to lie still, tried not to make a sound. His suitcase sat on a chair in the corner. His mind frantically went through the contents. Damn it! Everything was airport security approved. He had even changed to fucking Gillette Super Blue disposable razors.

There was a shuffling sound. He couldn't tell if it was headed in his direction. Andrew slid out of bed and onto the floor. His injured shoulder banged against the bed rail. He bit down on his lip until the pain subsided. He crawled between the bed and wall to the closet. Straining his eyes to see, he waited for a flicker of lightning. Nothing inside the closet. Not even a broom. Then he remembered the wooden rod for hanging clothes. He had noticed it because he thought it was silly to think anyone would bring clothes that required hanging to a cabin in the middle of the woods.

He slid his body up the wall, stopped and listened. He reached into the closet, feeling for the rod. Please, please let it not be secured. His fingers wrapped around the smooth wooden rod. He stopped and listened. There was a soft rustle and then a crackle. He held his breath. Damn! He still couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He leaned his cheek against the paneling and cocked his head toward the door to the bedroom. Another crackle, maybe a slow ripping sound. The intruder was going through his things. He tried to remember where he had left his wallet. Maybe whoever it was would take it and leave. Andrew lifted the rod out of its slots, and quietly, slowly he eased it up and out of the closed He got a better grip. He raised his good arm, testing to see how high he could lift it before the pain shot across his shoulder and stopped him. Not bad, though he wished he had taken more of the physical therapy his doctor had nagged him about.

He made his way to the door, then hesitated and listened. He thought he saw a blue glow that wasn't lightning. The refrigerator, maybe? A hungry thief?

Andrew tightened his grip on the rod. It felt good in his hand. It felt good enough that maybe this son of a bitch wouldn't be taking his wallet, after all.