Page 83 of You'll Be Sorry

And discovering a shadowy figure standing before her.

She didn’t even have time to scream. One second she was standing, the next she was shoved aside, hitting the deck hard as slivers of rough wood drove into her palms.

She tried to draw a breath. Could feel her lungs constrict, but no air moved in or out. The intruder rushed through the open doorway into her home. To do…?

Theo. She needed to call for Theo.

Then, barking.

The canine opportunist, rocketing across the porch and into the house, woofing furiously. She staggered to her feet, doing her best to follow.

The man, clad in head-to-toe black, was spinning around the space, as if searching for something. He spotted the old diary and snatched it off the coffee table just as Mr. Man lunged for him. The intruder swiped at the table lamp, knocking it in the dog’s direction. A yelp. The shatter of glass as the light bulb exploded upon impact.

Raquel finally found her voice. “Theo!” she bellowed with everything she had. While Mr. Man shook himself off, she found herself in a funny sort of standoff, the thief on one side of the sofa, her on the other, both shuffling side to side, blocking each other’s way.

Feet hitting the floor upstairs. Theo, about to join the fray, which would effectively trap the trespasser between them. The burglar seemed to realize it, too. With a growl of frustration, he picked up the second lamp, a tall, metal standing piece, holding it out like a makeshift club that he brandished menacingly.

Mr. Man wasn’t having it. He darted low, snapping at the intruder’s ankles. The interloper kicked out frantically, then raised the metal stand as if to smash it across the dog’s back.

“No!” Raquel shouted. “Drop the diary. Just drop it and go. Before my husband blows off your damn head!”

The threat seemed to do it. With a frustrated curse, the black-clad man tossed the disintegrating volume aside, then bolted for the rear door as Theo’s footsteps pounded down the stairs behind him.

Theo arrived wild-eyed, clad in only his boxers and a T-shirt while wielding a heavy-duty flashlight.

“What? Where?”

“Protect the journal,” she commanded, already on the run. “And take care of Mr. Man.”

But she needn’t have bothered. The dog nearly took her out, barreling past her to once more acquire his target. They both reached the backyard just in time to hear the chainsaw roar of an engine firing to life. An ATV shot out from the side of the house, headed for the driveway.

Raquel couldn’t help but race after it, though it was clearly a lost cause.

Except two headlights appeared in the distance, casting the ATV and black-clad driver in full silhouette. The intruder braked hard, lost a few precious seconds to indecision, then switched directions and shot out over the meadow.

Raquel ran for the passenger side of the vehicle, banging twice on the window before yanking open the door.

“What the hell?” Chief Grady demanded to know as both Raquel and the dog jumped in.

“Follow that man! He tried to steal my diary.”

“What? Never mind. Buckle up.”

Theo was now on the front porch, no shoes, no coat, gaping at her and the police chief. Raquel shouted she’d be right back; then Mandy gunned the engine and pushed the powerful four-wheel-drive vehicle over the grass in hot pursuit.

The ATV was too far ahead to be seen, but Raquel could make out its tracks in the fresh snow.

“Start talking,” the chief ordered.

“Intruder. Caught me on the front porch.” Belatedly she glanced at her palms, which were sticky with blood. “Made it inside and grabbed the journal—”

“Is this a historic journal? One that possibly belonged to a witch?”

“It belonged to the woman whose remains we found in the well. She was a midwife, which back in the day probably also made her a prime suspect as a witch.”

Mandy grunted, attention on the wheel. The gusting white flakes made visibility tricky as the vehicle bounced and slid over the uneven terrain.

“How’d you get said book?”