The rock crashed through the window, barely missing Rory Anderson's head, and slammed into the bookcase behind her. Seconds later, she heard the revving of an engine followed by the squeal of tires as a car sped away.

Rory's heart leapt into her throat. She gaped at the jagged hole in the window in front of her desk and swiveled her chair around to look behind her, where a dozen paperbacks had tumbled out of the bookcase onto the hardwood floor. Nestled among them lay the fist-sized rock that had come close to knocking her out.

Her heart pounding, Rory took several calming breaths and forced herself to sit as still as possible while she listened for suspicious sounds outside. No unusual noises reached her ears. The residents of Seagull Lane appeared to be tucked in for the night, enjoying a peaceful Sunday evening before the workweek started. Once her breathing returned to normal, she cautiously got up from her chair, leaned over her desk, and peered through the damaged window into the darkness beyond. Lights from neighboring houses illuminated enough of her street that she could discern the shapes of cars and trees. A cat crept out of the shadows and crossed her front lawn like a tiger on the prowl. She didn't want to know what the orange tabby was stalking.

Rory's gaze swept her work area from the window past the computer on her desk to the pile of books on the floor. She crossed the room, and tucking her long brown hair behind her ears, bent down to pick up the rock. Wrapped around it was a note. The words on the scrap of pink paper chilled her to the bone: This is only the beginning. Prepare to pay for your actions. Down with the Akaw!

Fright turned to puzzlement as the message finally sunk in. Dozens of people had been inside the newly built hotel in the two weeks since it opened. She doubted all of them had been treated to a rock through their window. She had written software for the Akaw, but that didn't seem a good enough reason to target her.

Rory carefully placed the rock and note on the desk and wiped off her hands on her jeans. After turning on every light she could find, she took her cell phone out of its charger and called the Vista Beach police department to report the incident. Time dragged on as she waited for a patrol car to arrive. She itched to clean up the mess, but knew the police would want to see an undisturbed scene so, instead, she took photos of the damage for her insurance company.

When ten minutes passed and the normally responsive police were nowhere in sight, she wondered if there'd been a sudden explosion of crime in Vista Beach. Perhaps the influx of visitors common in June was creating more problems than usual for the quiet Los Angeles County beach community.

Rory paced back and forth in the great room that spanned the front of her house, walking from the work area at one end to the living room at the other, periodically glancing outside. She was passing the front door for what must have been the tenth time when a cacophony of yowls and hisses rent the night air. Her stockinged feet slid on the polished hardwood, and she braced herself against a nearby wall to steady herself. As soon as she regained her balance, she poked her head out the door and yelled at the cats to be quiet. Once the warring felines slunk away, she continued her pacing, getting angrier and angrier every time she passed the damaged window, obsessing over the violation of her home and the police department's lack of response. By the time a patrol car pulled into her driveway forty-five minutes later, she was ready to explode.

Light spilled out onto the porch when Rory wrenched the front door open. She suppressed her anger as she watched the uniformed officer traverse the walkway, the beam of his flashlight illuminating the path before him. By the time he stepped onto the porch, she was calm enough to have a civil conversation.

"You called about some vandalism, ma'am?" Officer Yamada said, after introducing himself and apologizing for the delay.

Rory invited the officer inside and pointed to the broken window. He examined the area, then headed outside to look around.

When he returned, she handed over the note for his inspection. "This came through the window wrapped around a rock."

His expression neutral, he stared at the note, not even raising an eyebrow as he read the words on the paper.

"You don't seem very surprised," she said.

"This isn't new to me. I saw an identical note earlier tonight at the home of the chairman of the city council."

"So I wasn't the only one targeted." Rory didn't know whether to find the news comforting or not. "How many others were there?"

"Besides the chairman, two other council members' houses were egged. Those are just the calls I took personally."

No wonder he'd taken so long to get here, Rory thought. "How long has this been going on? The newspaper didn't say anything about vandalism. The only articles I saw were on people complaining about the hotel about, what was it ...?" She screwed up her face in concentration. "Something about homeowners near the Akaw claiming construction of the underground parking garage damaged their houses."

"It's been the talk of the department lately. Couldn't tell you if it's true or not. We've had several incidents of vandalism around the city since the hotel opened. The investigation is a top priority for us but, unfortunately, we haven't had much luck so far identifying the culprits."

"How come I haven't heard anything about this?"

"We've been keeping it quiet. Don't want to unnecessarily disturb residents. Do you work for the Akaw?"

"Indirectly. I put together their website and developed an app for guests to use."

The officer jotted something down on his notepad. "An app, huh? My daughter keeps on talking about apps. What does this one do?"

"Gives guests information on the hotel and the city. There's a map of the Akaw, menus for the hotel's restaurant and room service, a list of local attractions, that kind of thing. Users can even order room service and book their next visit right from their phone."

"Sounds useful. Would it be easy for someone to find out you did all this work for the hotel?"

"Pretty easy. My company name and website address is at the bottom of every site I develop. Wouldn't take much research to find out who I was, though I don't know how they'd know where I live. I use a postal box for all of my company correspondence."

The officer cleared his throat. A look of discomfort momentarily appeared on his face. "A lot of people know where you live because of the recent ... problem."

When she'd found a body in her garden and been suspected of murder two months before, it was the talk of the town. Between word of mouth and articles in the local newspaper and on blogs, half the residents probably had her address tucked away in the back of their minds by now.

"I'm sorry this happened to you. I know it's troubling. We'll do everything we can to figure out who's responsible." He closed his notebook. "In the meantime, I'll file a report. You can get a copy if you need one for your insurance company."

"What are the chances you'll actually find out who did this?"

"Based on past experience with this kind of thing, not great. But I like to be optimistic. We'll process the note and canvass the neighborhood to see if anyone noticed anything. Maybe we'll get lucky. One of your...