Home Invasion Read Online Free PDF

jewelry — but I’d venture to say the home invader gets his real thrills from having power over helpless individuals. From watching them cower in fear.”
    â€œWhen you say ‘he,’” the reporter interrupted the professor, “are you saying you believe the home invader is a male?”
    â€œForgive me,” Professor Tourneau said. “I stand corrected. I understand the police have not yet determined the sex of the home invader. However, according to the literature, most home invaders are male.”
    â€œThank you, Professor Tourneau.” The reporter reached out to shake Tourneau’s hand. “Before we end our special broadcast, we have a final guest: Constable Marie Leduc, a police spokesperson. Constable Leduc, I believe you have some tips for our viewers about how to keep the home invader from entering their homes.”
    I could tell from the way the police officer was tapping her pen on the table that she was nervous. It had been over a month and the police still hadn’t caught the home invader. That didn’t exactly make them look good. “Despite the hot weather,” Constable Leduc said, “we are urging Montrealers to keep their windows completely sealed.” I thought about how the Levesques had left their window open, with only the screen to cover it. Then, as if she was reading my mind, Constable Leduc added, “Screens donot provide sufficient protection. We also recommend that homeowners ensure all doors to their houses are properly locked. We’ve even heard reports of some individuals accidentally leaving their keys in their locks.”
    â€œImagine doing something like that,” Clay said.
    â€œPeople do it all the time,” I told him.
    I could feel Clay watching me.
    â€œWe’re not here to create fear in our viewers, but Madame Leduc, could you tell us what to do should the home invader make his — or her — way into our homes?”
    Constable Leduc looked up into the camera. “The main thing we recommend is that you cooperate with the home invader.” She stopped to clear her throat. “The home invader is armed and dangerous.”
    â€œHoly Toledo,” Clay said.
    â€œHoly what?”
    â€œToledo. It’s a city in Ohio. But it was named after an old Spanish city. El Greco painted it.” For a second, I thought Clay had distracted himself by telling me about some old painter and that he’d forgotten all aboutthe home invader. But then he surprised me by getting back on topic. “You know, Josh,” he said, “we better make sure all the windows are sealed.”
    â€œIf you didn’t smoke up the kitchen, we wouldn’t need to keep opening them.”
    Clay ignored my comment. “If the home invader wanted power,” he said, “he should’ve gone into politics.”
    â€œMaybe he’s just curious.”
    Clay looked at me. “What do you mean?”
    I looked out the window toward the other houses that lined our street. “Maybe he’s curious about other people. About what kind of lives they have.”
    â€œHow would you know?” Clay asked.
    â€œI wouldn’t. Let’s watch basketball.”
    Only then there were commercials: one for detergent, another for guard dogs. By the time they were over, so was the game.

Chapter Eight
    There were thirty seconds left. It was the fourth quarter and the score was tied at forty-eight. We were playing another camp team from Montreal’s East End. They had the ball. Their point guard — a blond guy with wire-rimmed glasses — was dribbling up the court. I watched him eye the clock.
    â€œIsolation!” he yelled, calling a play. All the players on his team rushed to the right side of the court. Which left just him and meone-on-one. For a split second our eyes met. Then I looked down at his hips; I knew they’d tell me the direction he’d be going in.
    Basketball’s a