The sun was roaring directly overhead, and even a blind man would know it. This day was a scorcher, and the girls had planned to spend it in the pool. Just after 9 I told Natalie that I’d needed to spend some time at the office, and her eyes burned into me hotter than the sun. It was a Saturday, a family day, but she knew that this deal was huge.

Microsoft was building a new Tampa office and liked to hire local architects where they built, and the it couldn’t have happened at a better time. The firm was pretty much being kept alive solely by this project. She was wrapping up breakfast for the kids, and I gave them all a kiss on the head before taking off in my khaki shorts and sweat wicking shirt.

The walk from the house to the car, combined with the time for the car to cool, had put some sweat in my pitts. Nothing new, we’d been living here all our lives, but it still managed to piss me off. I couldn’t even drive to the office without getting a little sweaty, and thankfully everyone was adjusted to it here, otherwise early morning client meetings would be pretty uncomfortable.

I made a couple of lefts and a handful of rights and was out of our neighborhood. The house we lived in was a far cry from the structures I designed, and was in no way like the houses the movies would have you believe that architects live in. I was probably 10 minutes into my commute, stuck in traffic on highway 91, when Natalie’s name appeared on my phone. I answered, secretly frustrated I couldn’t even have the drive to myself, but happy that if she’d wanted to talk we would get it out of the way before I got into my work.

“Hey what’s up?” I said before she got a chance to speak. The phone sounded like it was on speaker when she spoke, and I inferred from a hundred similar calls before that she was in the living room. The acoustics were noticeably different from the rest of the house.

“Hey Cliff, I need you to turn around and come back. Stevie is throwing a fit that you’re not here, and refuses to stop crying.” There was an uncertainty in her voice, and it seemed like she was nervous more than irritated, which is what I would’ve expected would be paired with an upset Stevie. I paused and chose my words carefully, my grandmother taught me to choose my battles wisely.

“Honey you know how behind I am on this project and-“ she cut me off before I could finish. “Cliff I get it but I am not taking no for an answer, I need you here. Now Ralph is using it on the neighbors lawn again. Just hurry back.” The phone made a beeping tone between my hand and ear, and I brought it down to a few inches in front of my waist. I held a confused gaze at the traffic in front of me for a moment and ordinarily would have contemplated what to do for the next few minutes. But the problem, the thing that rang out from the phone and into my ear, our dog’s name is Roger.

I peeled out of the middle lane as soon as there was an opening and got off of the highway. I took the local road which snakes through a few neighborhoods but I wagered was faster than dealing with the highway again. I tried calling back, as the fear sunk into me like a stone in a pool.

My stomach turned and I drove like I was inviting an officer to stop me and write down every law I was breaking on a ticket. Thinking about getting a ticket was a fortune. I was less than five minutes from the house when I realized I should call 911. An officer was dispatched to the house and would be there a few minutes after me.

I was torn between storming into the house but was also worried that there was someone there expecting me to do just that. I parked two houses up and hoofed it. Remember that sweat in my pitts I was complaining about earlier? That wasn’t the half of what I had soaking into my shirt as I scuttled around the backside of my own home like an intruder. I didn’t hear the girls playing in the pool like they planned to. Like they should be. I did hear a deeper voice than Natalie’s coming from inside the house.

I peered from around the corner of the pool house, careful to watch for my shadow being cast long and revealing my position some 28.5 feet (I designed the pool house) away from our living room. It was still mid morning and the sun was creating shadows left and right. And west, thankfully, right now. I had my shadow behind me was I started tip-toeing toward the house along the panes of glass.

I halted and took an immediate step back when I saw the figure of a huge looking man in the kitchen beyond the living room. He was in a greenish camouflage shirt. There was a black mask pulled over his head. There was a gun trained on my wife. When I slowed and realized he was facing the road, and not toward me, I kept moving. Maybe this guy had some sense and was watching out onto the street to see visitors before they arrived. I was glad I hugged the property line by the Peterson’s on my way in. He probably would have put a round in me if he’d have seen me.

I couldn’t go into the living room from the sliding doors because of the alarm system. If the doors were to open even just enough for me to slide through, the system would chirp. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. I composed myself and spent a moment thinking. The cops should almost be here. But Natalie and the girls are in immediate danger. I hope that we’re never in this situation again.

I snuck around to the front, my steps careful and quiet. Once I was there I could hear the gunman talking. “Come on lady. I’ve seen your husbands car. Look at this house. I know you have some cash or something here. Just tell me where and I won’t hurt you or the kids.”

Natalie had a quiver in her voice, worse than I’d ever heard even despite our many emotional conversations over the last 12 years. “I swear I don’t remember the passcodes, my husband handles all of our finances” she trembled out. I hated that she was right. I’d have preferred he get his money and go. I contemplated revealing myself and the safe’s passcode.

A cop car pulled onto the street, thankfully he’d listened to my request to the dispatcher not to use his siren, but he had lights blaring just as loudly on his hood. The intruder must have still seen them, because just as the cop got out of his car to approach the house, his weapon in his hands, a bullet shot out from the kitchen and brought most of the window over the sink with it. I was crouched down and thankfully not looking up, so I didn’t get any glass in my eyes. Once my ears stopped ringing I looked up and around.

The cop was laid out in the yard, squirming. I felt sorry that I called. He was reaching now for his radio, presumably to call for backup, when another round cried out. I was more prepared this time but still plenty startled. The man in the kitchen cried out now. “Fucking cops? You called the cops?!?”

Three more gunshots. Once I digested what happened I sprinted to the front door and ran into the house. He was near the doorway and wasn’t expecting me. My weight was enough to put him on the ground, and the tumbling toward the ground was enough to let loose another round. I rolled off of him and checked myself. Kicked the gun across the tile and into the study.

He managed to stand up and limped hurriedly into the direction of the back yard. Blood streaked across the living room floor, and eventually the back patio. The sun was cooking it into the pavement, and by the time the red was already staining the concrete permanently, the murderer took a couple of missteps in his drunk-looking state, and collapsed into the pool. He sunk toward the bottom like a stone.