Nye heard my scream and caught me just before I hit the floor.

"Liv, what happened?"

I pointed with a trembling finger at the drooping cat duct-taped to the outside of the window, blood dripping down its fur from the gash across its throat. Narrow rivulets trickled down the glass, lit by the harsh light overhead, Twiglet's life reduced to a few sorry streaks.

"It's my cat," I sobbed.

Nye hugged me against him, his heart steady as mine pounded. My ears made a strange whooshing noise, and I put my hands over them to make it stop.

"I'm so sorry, Liv."

"Twiglet was just a cat. What did he ever do to anybody?"

"Nothing. The guy's sick. Fucking sick."

With his free hand, Nye fumbled in his pocket for his phone. "When did you last check around the back?"

A pause.

"Because in the last half hour, someone's managed to kill Liv's cat and tape it to the damn window." He tossed the phone onto the draining board. "They're going to check the grounds."

"What if the man's still out there?"

Nye narrowed his eyes. "Then he'd better watch his back."

My ears worked overtime as they strained to hear what was happening outside, but all I got was the crack of twigs and an occasional shout. Nye's muscles grew more rigid with each passing minute until the men came back empty-handed half an hour later. Talk about an anticlimax.

Nye stayed with me in the lounge while one of his team got poor Twiglet down and another found a set of gardening tools in the dining room. I chose a spot under the boughs of the old apple tree where I'd seen Twiglet sitting to watch birds on occasion, and Nye dug a grave by torchlight. An insignificant resting place for a cat who'd left tiny paw prints on my heart.

"I can't believe he's gone," I said, choking on the words as Nye cleaned Twiglet up as best he could with paper towels.

"I'll get the guy, Liv. I promise."

We buried his tiny body in the box from a rice steamer that I'd liberated from the piles of peril. One of the other men made a grave marker with a Sharpie and a rock he found in the garden, and we held a makeshift funeral under the light of the not-quite-full moon.

I gave up trying to hold back my tears. Twiglet had survived months on his own after Aunt Ellie died, and just as he'd got his home back again, someone took everything away from him. I was shaking as we walked back inside, not just from fear, but from fury.

"How dare he? How dare some psycho come into my home and scare me? If I ever get my hands on him, I'm going to rip his testicles off and put them in my blender."

The three men all winced.

"Why would he do this? I mean, why would someone want me out of Lilac Cottage that much? I tried so hard to fit in. Even though the pub only serves weird food, I still ate there, and I used the local shops."

I didn't realise Nye had stopped walking until I heard his voice from a few feet behind.

"Fuck me."

Gladly, but that wasn't the sentiment his tone expressed. We all turned to look at him as he ran forward, pausing only to scoop me up on his way into the house.

"Uh, boss? Is there anything we can do?" one of the men asked.

He waved them off. "No, go back to your patrol. I need to think."

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked, too nervous to move from the chair he deposited me in.

"We've been all wrong on this," Nye said as he paced up and down between the half-empty grocery bags, running one hand through his hair.

"Wrong in what way?"

"What this bastard wants. It's not you that he's after at all."

"I don't get it."

"He wants the house."