Just after three in the morning, a strange scraping noise woke me. It sounded as though someone was moving something against my bedroom window. Since my husband had died two years earlier, I had been living alone. Frightened, I grabbed my phone and called the county dispatcher.
The dispatcher paused before telling me something terrifying. According to his records, I had already called fifteen minutes earlier. I insisted this was my first call, but he explained that another frightened woman had given my full name and address. Even worse, the
