Ashley Spencer’s childhood ended the night her father died; the moment before she fell asleep was the last time she experienced unadulterated joy. Ashley and her best friend, Tanya Jones, were still pumped up from their 2-1 victory over F.C. Oswego, a perennial state soccer power. Both girls had scored, and the victory would give them a shot at the top seed at the State Cup. They had gotten into bed after watching a video, then talked in the dark until a little after one o’clock. When Tanya went to sleep, Ashley closed her eyes and pictured her goal, a header that had boomed past Oswego ’s All-State goalie. She was smiling as she drifted off.

Ashley had no idea how long she’d been asleep when a sudden movement on Tanya’s side of the bed woke her. Tanya was sitting up, staring at the open doorway. Ashley, groggy and not completely certain she was awake, thought she saw someone walking toward Tanya. She was about to say something when Tanya grunted, twitched, and toppled to the floor. The man turned as Ashley leaped out of bed, extending his arm like a duelist. Ashley’s muscles spasmed as a bolt of electricity surged through them. She fell sideways onto the bed, confused and unable to control her body. A fist smashed into her jaw, and she tottered on the brink of unconsciousness.

Tanya’s head rose over the far side of the bed. The intruder was on her instantly. Ashley saw his fists and legs moving. Tanya fell back on the floor and out of Ashley’s sight. A roll of gray duct tape appeared in the man’s hands. He tore off several strips and knelt next to Tanya. Moments later, he walked around the bed. A black ski mask covered his face. He wore gloves and dark clothing.

A vise-like grip closed on Ashley’s throat and her pajama top was ripped open. She made a feeble attempt at self-defense but she couldn’t control her muscles. A leather-covered hand squeezed Ashley’s breast until she screamed. The man hit her hard before sealing her mouth with a strip of tape. The intruder rolled Ashley onto her stomach and taped her wrists and ankles together. His face was close to her and she could smell his breath and body odor.

Once she was bound, the man slipped his hand inside her pajamas and caressed her buttocks. Ashley bucked and received a blow for resisting. She tried to squeeze her legs together but stopped when he grabbed her ear and twisted. A finger slipped inside her, probing, rubbing. Then the finger disappeared and he lowered himself onto her. Ashley’s body trembled violently for a moment more. Then the sexual assault stopped and the oppressive weight disappeared. Ashley turned her head and saw Tanya being dragged into the guestroom that was next to her bedroom.

Ashley strained to hear what was going on. Bedsprings squeaked. Tape sealed Tanya’s mouth but Ashley could still hear her friend’s muffled scream. Ashley was gripped by a fear different from any she had ever known. It was as if a stifling gray fog had settled over her, cutting off her air and paralyzing her limbs.

There were more moans and screams from Tanya, but the man who had invaded her home worked in silence. Ashley’s heart was pumping furiously and she couldn’t get enough air through her nose. She tried not to think about what was happening to her best friend and concentrated on breaking her bonds. It was impossible. She wondered whether her father was dead and the thought galvanized her. If Norman was dead then she couldn’t count on anyone to rescue her. She would have to save herself.

In the next room, the man uttered a primal roar of release and Ashley shuddered. He’d finished raping Tanya; next he’d be coming for her. For a moment, the only sounds from next door were Tanya’s muffled whimpers. Then Ashley heard an animal snarl and the sound of a blade slamming into flesh. Tanya made a strangled cry that was followed by silence. The stabbing continued. Ashley was certain that Tanya was dead.

The door to the guest room slammed shut and the intruder emerged, ghostlike, out of the darkness. Only his eyes and lips showed through his ski mask. Ashley’s breath caught in her chest. The man savored her terror. Then he whispered “See you later,” and walked downstairs.

Ashley collapsed from relief, but the feeling was short-lived. “See you later” meant that he was coming back to kill her. She struggled to sit up and scanned her room for something she could use to cut her bonds. Downstairs, the refrigerator door opened. The thought that he was going to eat something horrified Ashley. How could he eat after what he’d done? What kind of thing was he? The refrigerator door closed. Ashley grew desperate. She was going to be raped and killed if she couldn’t get away.

A sound from the doorway brought her around. Something covered with blood was dragging itself across the floor. With a great effort, the thing raised its face and Ashley almost blacked out.

Norman Spencer crawled toward his daughter. There was stubble on his bloodstained cheeks and his hair was in disarray. In his right fist was his Swiss Army knife, the long blade out. Ashley fought the nausea and horror that threatened to disable her and rolled onto the floor. She turned her back to her father and presented her bound wrists. Norman had almost no strength left and he did not speak as he sawed at the tape with feeble strokes. Ashley wept as he worked the knife. She knew that she could not save her father and that he was using all that was left of his life to save hers.

The tape parted. Ashley grabbed the knife and freed her ankles. Then she ripped away the tape that covered her mouth and started to speak. Norman shook his head and jabbed weakly toward the hall to warn her that the intruder might hear. There should have been fear in his eyes since his death was certain, but he looked triumphant as he touched her lightly on her cheek. Ashley shook with silent sobs as she knelt beside her father. She held him. Norman whispered, “I love you.” Just the effort of speaking cost him dearly. He coughed blood and a shiver went through him.

“Daddy,” Ashley moaned. She felt so helpless.

A plate rattled against the kitchen table. “Go,” Norman said, the words barely audible. Ashley knew she had to flee or die. She cried as she kissed her father’s cheek. His body trembled, he closed his eyes, and stopped breathing.

Another sound from the kitchen brought Ashley to her feet. If she died, her father would have given his life for nothing. She wrenched open her bedroom window. Wood screeched against wood. To Ashley, it sounded like she’d set off an alarm.

Feet pounded up the stairs. It was a two-story drop to the ground, but Ashley had no choice. She crawled into the chill night air and hung from the ledge. The drop terrified her. A broken ankle would leave her helpless. She felt the strain in her arms. Then she heard a bellow of rage from her room and she let go.

The impact with the ground stunned her. Ashley lay on her back in the wet grass. A masked face stared down at her from her bedroom window. Ashley’s eyes locked with the killer’s for a moment. Then she was up and running, her breath slamming in her chest, legs pumping, running faster than she ever had before-running for her life.

Ashley sat in Barbara McCluskey’s kitchen. Despite a borrowed sweat suit and the heat in the house, she hunched forward as if chilled to the bone. Her eyes, bloodshot from crying, stared blankly at the tabletop. She was so numb that she didn’t feel the bruises and cuts that a medic had treated a short time before. Every once in a while she would raise a mug of hot tea to her lips. Sipping the tea took every ounce of strength she could muster.

Ashley’s flight had taken a random route through the neighborhood and ended in the bushes in the McCluskeys’ backyard. The cold and rain had eventually driven her to pound on her neighbor’s back door. While she was hiding, Ashley tried to imagine ways in which she could have averted the horrors that had befallen her father and her best friend. In every scenario the outcome was the same: if she stayed behind she ended up dead. Yet that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty for running away.