THE first impact, booming through the walls of the house, barely registered.
The second crashing impact sent shelves rattling, fixtures shaking. That got Rick's attention, and he tried to force himself to climb out of the deep sleep he had too recently achieved.
The third one, reverberating with the sound of splintering wood, shot Rick upright in bed, his pulse pounding in his ears, a cold finger of fear thrilling up his spine.
Someone was coming through his front door in the middle of the night, and they weren't trying to be sneaky about it.