27
Raquel woke up to the dog scratching at the front door. She roused herself from the sofa, where she’d fallen asleep with the journal splayed on the coffee table before her. No sign of Theo, who’d apparently had the good sense to go to bed. She yawned, stretching out her back.
The dog remained staring pointedly at the front door.
Seriously, Theo needed to take better care of his projects.
“All right,” she muttered to the increasingly impatient canine. “Let’s do this.” Flicking on the table lamp. Donning her boots. Grabbing her coat.
The second she cracked open the door, the dog flew down the steps and hit the tree line. She ventured only as far as the porch, standing with her arms wrapped around her for warmth as she watched light flakes of snow swirl through the night sky.
There appeared to be only an inch or so covering the ground. Mere foreplay before tomorrow night’s big event. The icy flakes glittered like sugar granules beneath the porch lights. Pretty, she conceded, turning back toward the house…
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?”
“I nicked it from beneath Mason’s and Betty’s watchful eyes at the historical society. Turns out, it was last in the possession of Janet Dixon.”
Another grunt, this one more in acknowledgment than surprise. “So this thief tried to steal what you’d already stolen?”
“Details, details.” Raquel turned toward the police chief. “How long have Betty and Mason been an item?”
“An item? As in? No, no, not doing this now. You still have the diary?”
“Yes. There, that’s him!” Raquel pointed forward where a dark shape briefly bobbed into sight before disappearing again. Mr. Man, standing at full alert beside her, whined anxiously. “Could you see the guy, illuminated by your headlights?”
“I saw a black helmet and black snow suit. That’s it.”
“I want to know who he is. And how he knew—my thievery skills aren’t that terrible. Plus, he hit my dog.”
“You’re right. Now chasing down a masked intruder makes total sense.”
Another brief glimpse of movement ahead of them. They’d already passed the collapsed garage and the roped-off well, racing parallel with the cliff edge, which was definitely preferrable to racing off it.
“Shit.” The chief hit the brakes, the vehicle fishtailing briefly before coming under control.
Raquel spotted it a moment later. The tracks of the ATV had veered sharply left, where the police cruiser’s headlights now revealed a thick wall of forest, the trees too tightly packed for a vehicle of their size to follow.
“Hang on.” Mandy yanked open her door, already jumping out as they came to a full stop.
Raquel did the same.
Both stood in silence, momentarily confused, and then Raquel got it. Silence, as in no growl from the retreating ATV. Because the intruder had been forced to abandon his transport in the dense woods? Or had decided to hide out, preparing for ambush?
“Stay here,” Chief Grady demanded.
Just as Mr. Man barked urgently and sprang forward.
“Goddammit.” The police chief darted after the dog, Raquel giving chase behind her. The cop had her gun plus a flashlight in hand. Raquel had…righteous indignation? Sheer bullheaded stubbornness?
The chief pulled up short, Raquel nearly colliding with her. For a moment, they both stood there, gasping for breath as snow dusted their hair and shoulders.
Raquel strained to hear anything over the thundering of her heart. A human crashing through the underbrush. A dog barking in hot pursuit. She got nothing.
“What—” she started, but Mandy held up a silencing finger.
Another deep breath, forcing herself to pay attention. If she couldn’t hear anything, then what about sight? Wheel tracks had brought them this far. And now?
Raquel snagged her cellphone from her back pocket, hit flashlight, and began searching. The ATV, let alone its driver, couldn’t have simply vanished.
Not to mention Mr. Man had alerted to something. So where?
Turning in a slow circle in one direction, as the chief worked in the opposite direction. Still nothing. Then:
A pair of glittering eyes stared back at her.
Raquel yelped, dropped her phone. The chief whirled, already taking aim. While with a chitter of outrage, some forest creature bounded to the next tree limb.
“Jesus Christ,” the cop exhaled. “Get back to the truck already.”
In answer Raquel snatched up her phone and returned to high alert.
Finally, a noise up and to their right.
Chief Grady headed in that direction, Raquel creeping along behind her.
The sound of whining. They both picked up their pace.
Mr. Man appeared in the beam of the chief’s flashlight. He was at the base of an enormous rocky outcropping, peering straight up in agitation. Mandy swept her light across the ledge, seeking a target. Getting a rhythm now, Raquel focused on the ground around them, searching for footprints.
The area here was too exposed and wind-scoured for her to determine anything. Beside her, Chief Grady didn’t appear to be having any better luck.
The dog placed its front paws on the slick granite block, vocalizing insistently.
“Where the hell could he have gone?” Mandy muttered in frustration.
“I’m not seeing any tracks,” Raquel ventured.
“I’ll bet you anything he ducked behind the first offered cover, waited till we passed, then doubled back. If we hadn’t followed the damn dog…”
“But what is the damn dog following?” Raquel countered.
“This time of night…fox, deer, coyote, raccoon.”
Mr. Man glanced over, clearly insulted. He pawed at the rocks again.
Raquel expanded her search, discerning a downed tree, pieces of rotted wood, and other detritus. The untamed wilderness turned out to be quite messy.
“You said this person targeted some old diary, ostensibly written by the victim in the well. Who knew you had it?”
“Mason was pretty sure I’d snatched it. And of course, the cold case cop, Adams—”
“You talked to Detective Adams?”
“Brought him to the house. He was…” Raquel searched for the right word. “Mesmerized. And quite knowledgeable. He’s definitely spent quality time obsessing over all the original crime scene photos.”
“Those are the only two options? An elderly town historian and a state cop?”
“Who else?” Raquel started, then caught herself. “Actually, I’m not certain about that.”
Mandy, scanning the granite face with her high-intensity flashlight. “Explain.”
“The local news just aired footage that showed me walking away from the church with Detective Adams. I have no idea who took it, or for that matter, how long they’d been watching.
If that person overheard Mason arguing with me”—Raquel shrugged—“it wouldn’t be too hard to infer what had happened.
Adams certainly knew I’d taken the diary. ”
Grumbling from the police chief, followed by an explosive, “Fuck!”
Raquel recoiled instinctively, then spied Mandy’s source of concern. A new pair of glittering eyes stared down at them. Mr. Man broke into a fresh round of barking.
“Raccoon. Told you. Nasty creatures. First search and rescue I ever did involved a fatality. Body looked like it had been systemically dismembered and strewn across the ravine by a depraved serial killer. Or, as it turned out, a family of raccoons. They’ll gnaw their way through the stomach into the rib cage, where they can feast on all the good parts, then burst out of the chest cavity like something out of the Aliens movies. ” The chief shuddered. “Hate raccoons.”
Nearly on cue, another set of eyes appeared above the first, then another. A stacked-up trio, chittering away at Mr. Man’s ferocious baying. The dog tried to scramble up, but the granite was too slick. He slid back down onto all fours, which hardly improved his mood.
Raquel looked for something to shoo away the pests, if only to restore order. Stick, stick, larger stick, enormous downed tree limb, and then…not a stick. She walked closer, felt a slow sinking sensation in her stomach.
Another not stick and yet another…
“Chief Grady,” she called out softly.
The woman crossed, hitting the weak light from Raquel’s phone with her brighter beam. Raquel knew the second she got it, too. As the cop traced a line from the scattered human bones straight up to where the three raccoons sat in a narrow gap. Say, the opening to a cave.
Mr. Man sat back on his haunches, whining softly.
“Good dog,” Raquel told him.
Though she already had a feeling there was nothing good about this.