Dean Koontz - Ashley Bell

Eventually, she retreated to the wicker sofa on the back porch of the bungalow, where she had left a paperback and the notebook in which she composed the stories about Jasper, the lonely dog.

Later, her father appeared, ready to make his weekly inspection of the garage apartment, to check for roof leaks and other problems.

“Dad.” When he looked back at her from the bottom of the porch steps, she said, “Be careful.”

He frowned. “Careful of what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I heard someone up there.”

As larky as ever, he said, “Maybe that raccoon got down through the attic again. He’s damn well gonna pay rent this time.”

When he returned ten minutes later, he had found neither the raccoon nor any other uninvited lodger.

As the sky gathered rain to spend, young Bibi retreated to her room to write a Jasper story. Two weeks passed before she dared to return to the apartment.

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