House of Glass. Sophie Littlefield

Jen followed close behind. At the bottom of the staircase was the front door, heavy and solid. Jen could slip past Livvy and yank the door open. She could push her daughter out into the night, to safety. It would only take a second. One of the men might shoot her, but unless he got lucky the wound probably wouldn’t kill her. As long as she made it out the door, someone was bound to see her and Livvy on the front porch. It was dinnertime on Crabapple Court, and fathers were arriving home from work and kids from sports and clubs and music lessons. Moms were returning from grocery runs and yoga classes. Jen would scream and help would come.

      Except she couldn’t leave her little boy behind, not even for a second, unprotected and vulnerable. She couldn’t leave Ted. So she walked past the front door and into the family room, the others close behind her.

      “Sit.” The older man’s voice was terse and impatient.

      Jen pulled Livvy down with her in the corner of the sectional. On the television, Dora the Explorer hid behind a cartoon tree.

      “You don’t have to do this,” Ted said. “Come on.”

      “Oh, yeah?” The man turned on Ted. The two men glared at each other, something passing between them. Jen looked from one to the other, trying to figure it out. “Turn that shit off.”

      “Have you seen him before?” she whispered as Ted reached for the remote on the coffee table and turned off the set.

      “No, never,” he muttered, sitting down on the other side of Livvy with Teddy on his lap.

      The two men stood in front of them, one on either side of the television armoire. The younger one slouched against it, his gun practically dangling from his hand. The older man stood ramrod straight.

      “We’re here to do a job,” he said angrily as though the Glasses had inconvenienced him in some way. “You make it easy, cooperate, you’ll be okay. You get in our way, we hurt you.”

      Next to him the other man coughed, only Jen was pretty sure the cough covered up a laugh.

      “What do you want?” she asked. “Because you can have it, I don’t care—”

      “You don’t talk,” the man snapped. “I talk. I’m Dan. This is Ryan. You only talk when we tell you. You got something to say?”

      Was she supposed to talk now? Jen tried to ignore the pounding of her heart, “I’m sorry. I’m just scared. Please don’t hurt my family. How can we help you get what you want so you can go?”

      “Hah,” Ryan said. “She wants to help us. You like that, Dan?”

      Jen realized something deeply terrifying: they had made no effort to disguise themselves. No knitted caps or Nixon masks, which meant they didn’t care if the Glasses knew what they looked like.

      They’re going to kill us, Jen thought, terror slicing through her.

      Dan ignored the younger man. “All you need to know right now is don’t talk until I tell you to. Keep your hands to yourself. Do what you’re told and don’t make me ask twice.”

      “Just tell us what you want,” Ted demanded. “Whatever it is, we can help you get it.”

      “That right...Ted?” Dan drawled.

      “How do you know his name?” Jen asked. Ryan swung the gun in her direction, instantly tense.

      “Aren’t you paying attention? Shut up!”

      “Please,” Jen whispered. “I’m sorry. Can I ask, just one question—”

      “Go. Fast.” Dan watched her impatiently.

      “Let the kids go,” Jen said quickly, pleadingly. “Please, just let the kids go. They can walk over to my sister’s. It’s less than a mile.”

      Ryan laughed, lips pulling back from slightly crooked teeth. “Right! Great idea. Livvy here’s gonna take her bratty little brother over to her aunt’s house and forget to mention that her parents are being held hostage.”

      Jen felt her daughter stiffen in her arms. They knew Livvy’s name. Ted’s name. Ryan spun his gun so the barrel was pointing down, reached out and caressed Livvy’s cheek with the grip. Livvy flinched and pulled away with a whimper, and Ryan laughed.

      “Get up,” Dan said. “Time to go downstairs.”

      Chapter Six

      “Oh, God,” Livvy said, a split second after they heard the lock at the top of the stairs. She was standing apart from her parents, her arms hugging her body. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “It smells so bad down here!”

      Ted reached for Livvy, and she fell against him. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, and she sobbed against his chest. Jen picked Teddy up and rocked him gently, whispering that he shouldn’t worry about Livvy, that his sister would be just fine.

      After a few moments Livvy’s sobs subsided and she pulled away from Ted. She went to stand near the shelf where all her trophies were lined up—Mini Marlins swim, eight years of soccer, a few for softball, one from the American Legion speech contest back in middle school. Jen could see her shoulders trembling.

      “Honey, it’s going to be okay,” Jen said, handing Teddy to her husband and approaching Livvy cautiously. She had to keep her calm, had to make her believe she and Ted had things under control. “Once they get what they want, they’ll go.”

      “But what do they even want?”

      Jen put her hand on Livvy’s shoulder and gently turned her so she could look into her eyes. “Anything they can sell, I would guess. There’s the silver, my jewelry, the computers—any number of things. They’ll take it and they’ll go.”

      She could see Livvy trying, wanting, to believe her. She tried to make herself believe it, so her face would convince Livvy.

      “I need to talk to Daddy,” she said as calmly as she could. “Can you play with Teddy and keep him busy for a few minutes?”

      Livvy nodded. She looked a little better, some of the panic gone from her eyes.

      “His old toys are in here,” Jen said, getting a cardboard box down off the shelf. “I haven’t had a chance to get them over to St. Vincent De Paul’s yet. Go ahead and get them out. Whatever he wants.”

      Livvy talked softly to her brother, kneeling down on the cold concrete floor next to him and peeling the tape off the box. Jen and Ted went to the far side of the basement where the old living room furniture was stored, the pieces that Ted kept meaning to put on Craigslist. Ted lifted the old lamp shades off the couch and brushed off the cushions. When they sat down, he took her hands in his.

      “I don’t understand why they picked us,” Jen said in a low voice. “It’s not like we have the biggest house in the neighborhood. And we were home. Why wouldn’t they pick a place where nobody was home? I mean, all they had to do was keep knocking on doors until they found one that nobody answered. Then they could just go around the back and break in.”

      “I don’t know, maybe they were worried about alarms. Everybody’s got those signs in their yard, those ADT warnings.”

      “Not everyone,” Jen said. “Lots of people don’t.” They didn’t, for instance. They’d talked about a home alarm system, but they’d felt that Livvy was too young to be depended on to arm and disarm the system.

      “I think we have to assume it’s just random,” Ted said. “Just bad luck.”

      “But you’d think they’d at least watch the house for a few days. I mean, that’s what you always read in the papers—they watch the house to figure out when the owners come and go, right? But these guys came at exactly the wrong time. This is the time of day there’s most likely to be someone home. It doesn’t make any sense.”

      I’m scared, she wanted to say. She wanted Ted to put