Demola crouched by the rear tire of his truck, still cursing as he cranked the last nut on the lugs as quickly as he could. The sun had peeked over the horizon a good half hour ago. He needed to get this tire changed and get out of here before -

The front door of the big house creaked.

Damn. He hadn't been quick enough.

Footsteps echoed on the porch. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder. He knew who the footsteps belonged to. Knew where they were heading.

He swore as he set the crowbar aside and started lifting the tire from the rear axle.

The footsteps crossed...