Ripley's POV
It bothered her to wait this long.
Ripley crept through the house, doing her best not to use a flashlight. She willed her eyes to see better in the low light.
If she hadn't known better, she might have believed it worked.
She inclined her head towards the slashes in the sheetrock.
Animal attack, her behind.
Animal Control had been prowling the neighborhood for days now. It had been eerily reminiscent of the days following her parents' murder. She knew Animal Control would find nothing. She knew the coroner's report would come to the conclusion that Mr. Cutter had, for some unknown reason, invited a rabid coyote into his home, where it had torn him to shreds and then somehow let itself out without being noticed. The sheer size of the bloody paw print still next to the back door would prove that was impossible, but they couldn't be bothered to imagine anything else happening to the old man.
This was a sign, though.
Ripley was definitely getting closer.