At ten o’clock, an insistent noise woke Vic Braunson from a deep sleep. Without opening his eyes, he slapped the snooze button on his alarm clock, hoping to grab another fifteen minutes between the sheets.
The noise didn’t let up. It was a chime, not the alarm’s insistent blare, accompanied by a brrrt that sounded like a vibrator left unattended on a wooden floor. That image called up an odd memory—a cluttered room with s*x toys scattered around the floor, porn magazines with sticky pages draped forgotten on a disheveled bed. The memory brought with it a surge of fear, and one word clawed through Vic’s sleep-draped mind. Matty!
He sat up, confused to find himself in his own bed. The room was dark, despite the hour; what little light streamed through the break in the curtains was cloudy a
