Skye gently eased it onto the table and illuminated it with her light. It was a family Bible. Just as she opened the black leather cover her flashlight flickered and went dead. Swallowing a scream, she clutched the book to her chest. She shook the flashlight and flicked the switch on and off; it still wouldn’t work.

She forced herself to wait a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then made her way out of the garage. The rain had stopped momentarily, and the moon glowed brightly. She looked at her watch. It was after twelve-thirty and she had to go to the bathroom. Mom was right. You should always go before you leave home.

She fished the key from her pocket, unlocked the Buick, and tucked the Bible next to the box in the backseat. After relocking the vehicle, she headed inside to use the facilities.

The key had been replaced on the window frame’s nail and Skye had no trouble gaining entrance to the house. She caught her breath when she entered the kitchen. Almost everything had been removed. The cupboard doors hung open, their shelves nearly bare. All the appliances were gone except for the old stove. Everyone must have stayed after she and her family left and picked the place clean. It looked as if a swarm of locusts had come through and spit out the few things that weren’t tasty enough to swallow.

Feeling a twinge of disgust, Skye hurried to the bathroom, hoping no one had decided they wanted the fixtures. In there, both the linen closet and medicine cabinets had been similarly ransacked, with only a few empty prescription bottles left lying on their sides. The toilet gleamed whitely, and she sighed in relief as she attacked the zipper on her jeans.

After she was finished, Skye washed her hands and was then forced to let them air dry, since even the curtains were gone. It was late and she was tired, but this was her chance to take one more look and see if she could spot anything the police had overlooked.

The rest of the rooms were similarly bare. She wondered what they’d do about the house. It was old and needed major renovations. The land it occupied was probably worth more than the building, but she hoped the new owner wouldn’t just tear it down.

Her last stop was the living room. She flicked on the overhead light and stood in the entrance, picturing it the way the room had looked the many times she and her grandmother had sat and visited there. Grandma’s La-Z-Boy was always to the right of the big window. Next to it was the “magic” table and on the other side was the chair Skye always occupied.

Everything was gone now. The room had been painted only a few months earlier and the cream walls gleamed in unblemished splendor.

Whoa, what is this? Skye moved over to the window and looked at the wall underneath the sash. A small dark mark marred the plaster. It was only an inch and a half long and a half an inch wide, but to Skye it stood out as if it were delineated in neon.

She squatted next to it and looked all around, even checking the underside of the wooden sill. Nothing. Someone must have bumped it when they were moving out furniture yesterday.

A cloud covered the moon and darkness enveloped her as Skye left the house. No one had replaced the broken outside light and suddenly she felt as if she were being watched. She ran to the Buick, unlocked the door, and jumped inside. She hit the lock buttons as quickly as she was able.

On the drive home, Skye constantly checked the rearview mirror, sure she was being followed, but there were no other vehicles on the road. At least none trailing her with their headlights on.

By the time she got to her cottage, Skye had convinced herself that it was all in her imagination. There had been no one watching at her grandmother’s and no one had followed her home. She was being silly.

Pushing her fear away, Skye opened the car door. After trying to lift both the Bible and the box, she decided to take one at a time-the heavier load first. The last thing she wanted was to drop the family Bible in the mud.

She heaved the box into her arms and fumbled her way inside. Bingo was waiting for her by the door and wound around her feet as she tried to walk through the foyer. She dropped the carton on the sofa, grabbed a letter opener from her desk, and cut through the packing tape. Prying open one flap, she saw an issue of Modern Maturity. All that trouble for another box of old magazines.

Disappointed, Skye started back to the Buick. She was halfway down the front sidewalk when she noticed that someone had the car door open and was reaching into the vehicle’s backseat. A sound of protest escaped Skye’s throat and the figure straightened, clutching something to its chest.

The intruder stared at Skye through the slits of a ski mask. The eyes glittered with hatred, and for a moment Skye thought they looked familiar, but before she could get a good look the trespasser whirled and raced down the driveway.

Skye ran to her car and looked inside. The Bible was gone. Great, now her relatives had another transgression to blame her for. She had lost the family Bible. She had to get it back. The thief was tall, well muscled, and ran with an athletic grace. Skye knew she’d never catch up on foot.

She jammed her hand in her pocket and came up with the car keys. In seconds she had jumped into the Buick and backed it out of the driveway. Skye headed toward town, the direction the robber had headed. There was no sign of the figure, and when she reached the crossroads she was stumped. The darkness made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of her. Which way had the intruder chosen? Probably neither. Most likely the invader had left the road and was long gone. She had blown her one chance to retrieve the Bible.

As Skye pulled back into her driveway, she realized how foolish she had been to pursue the thief. She was alone and vulnerable. This thought made her hurry inside and lock the door. Her father had given her a shotgun after her windows had been broken. She had hidden it in the seat of the hall bench. Heart pounding, she grabbed the weapon, leaned against the foyer wall, and thumbed the gun’s release. The barrels and stock separated. Two red shells rested in the barrels. It was loaded and ready to go. All those sessions with Jed and Vince shooting tin cans had taught her all she needed to know about firing a shotgun.

Skye woke to Bingo’s yowls. He was standing on her chest. She had fallen asleep on the couch after sitting there for hours mentally replaying the night’s events and clutching the shotgun. Bingo continued to vocalize until she got up. The fur on his back stood up in a ridge down his spine. His tail twitched and his ears were moving like radar dishes.

She followed him to the foyer. Skye kept her body against the wall and peeked out the small pane in the door. A shadowy figure was trying to open the Buick’s trunk.

Gripping the shotgun, Skye flipped on the porch light. The intruder froze and looked toward the house. It was the same figure as before. Skye ducked back inside. For a second she thought the person was going to charge the cottage, but instead it ran into the trees.

Skye sank onto the couch and waited for her heart to regain its normal rhythm. This was an interesting development. The Bible must not have been what the intruder was after. What could the burglar want?

If the robber had followed her, and watched her at her grandmother’s, then Skye was probably seen carrying two items to her car. Maybe the intruder didn’t even know what it was looking for, but couldn’t afford to have Skye stumble across something incriminating by accident. Possibly the person wanted both items, no matter what they were.

Her gaze fell on the box full of magazines. I’d better look through these right away. She reached for the carton, pulled it across the coffee table toward her, and tipped it over. At first a few magazines fluttered to the floor, then a lifetime’s worth of snapshots spilled out.