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caught her breath, then crept toward the living room. She switched on the light. No one.
    The curtains on the window were open a few inches. She noticed the headlights of a car coming down the street, three stories below. Were those the shadows she’d seen?
    Hannah checked the front closet. Then she peeked into Guy’s room.
    He was sitting up in bed, looking utterly terrified. “Mommy?”
    “It’s okay, honey,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. “Just stay there, sweetie. Everything’s all right.”
    She poked her head in the bathroom, then returned to the living room. She checked the door. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.
    It wasn’t locked. She could have sworn she’d double-locked it earlier in the evening.
    But that had been at least three glasses of wine ago. Just last night, she’d resolved to cut back on the chardonnay consumption.
    Her heart still racing, Hannah double-locked the door. She glanced around the apartment. Nothing was missing. Nothing had been disturbed. Was she drunk? Maybe she was just a little paranoid after watching that creepy video.
    She checked her purse—just where she’d left it, on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. Inside, her wallet, cash, and credit cards were still there.
    “Mom!” Guy cried out. “Mommy, where are you?”
    Hannah hurried back to Guy’s room. He was still was sitting up in bed, clutching the bedsheets to his chin. “There was a scream,” he murmured.
    Hannah smoothed his disheveled blond hair. Her hand was shaking. “I, um, I just had a nightmare, honey,” she whispered, trying to smile. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
    Guy squinted at her. “What did you dream?”
    Hannah shrugged. “I can’t remember now. Isn’t that silly?”
    Sighing, she sat down on the edge of his bed. She kept having to tell herself that they were all right. Safe.
    “Think you can go back to sleep now?” she asked.
    Guy yawned, then tugged at the bedsheets. “Could you stay a little longer, and make the choo-choo sound?”
    Hannah kissed his cheek. “Okay, just pretend the train is carrying you off to Dreamland.”
    She swayed back and forth, rocking the bed ever so slightly. “Listen to the train,” she whispered. Softly she began lulling him to sleep with her rendition of a locomotive. “Choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo…”
    “Are you still scared?” he muttered sleepily.
    “No, I’m okay, honey,” she said, with a nervous laugh.
    “It was just a bad dream, Mom.”
    “Sure it was,” she agreed, patting his shoulder. “Now get some sleep. It’ll be morning soon.”

Three
    For the last five minutes, they had been looking at static on the TV screen.
    Hannah and the store manager, Tish, were in the cluttered closet that was the employee break room. There were a desk and chair, and several shelves crammed with old receipts, defective tapes, office supplies, and one tiny television with a built-in VCR. Tish screened allegedly flawed videos on this TV to make sure complaining customers weren’t just trying to score a free comp rental.
    But this morning, Hannah and Tish were crammed in that little room, watching the Goodbar copycat video. It was a continual gray blizzard. Standing behind Tish in the chair, Hannah reached past her and tried the fast-forward button. Nothing. More static.
    “Sure doesn’t look like Diane Keaton,” Tish cracked.
    “I don’t know what happened,” Hannah murmured.
    “Do you think you brought the wrong tape back?” Tish offered.
    Hannah shook her head. “I couldn’t have. I remember last night taking it out of the VCR and putting it on the kitchen counter.”
    “Well, maybe you taped over it by accident,” Tish said.
    Bewildered, Hannah stared at the static on the TV screen. Had she erased the tape? She couldn’t have been that drunk last night, though she certainly had a hangover this morning.
    “Well, fine,” Tish sighed, getting to her feet. “My one shot at seeing a snuff film, and you bring me fifteen