The first shot goes wide, but the second doesn't. She may not be able to triangulate by sound alone, but she's spent long enough at the firing range with paranoid Uncle Andy to land a bullet in someone when she's facing them. Out of the corner of her eye, she has just enough time to register the stranger's look of surprise at the sudden hole in his shoulder before she's out the door and booking for the stairs.

(The gun was on the mantelpiece, behind a family photograph; the heavy frame teeters, topples, and hits the carpet with a muffled thud.)