My heart hammered against my ribs as the sedan skidded to a halt right behind Marcus’s truck.

The driver’s door opened, and Thomas stepped out into the rain.

He looked pale, his hair plastered to his forehead, his jacket open.

“Marcus!” Thomas called out, his voice shaking. “Marcus, what is going on here?”

Marcus walked out of my front door, the iron poker still gripped in his right hand.

“You lied to me, Thomas,” Marcus said, his voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain.

“I didn’t lie,” Thomas stammered, raising his hands. “I swear, I didn’t. I went to the workshop to get the rest of the inventory.”

“The ledger is gone,” Marcus said, stopping just a few feet from Thomas. “And your wife just ran off into the woods with it.”

Thomas stared at him, his mouth opening slightly.

“Kiera?” Thomas whispered. “No. She doesn’t know anything about the ledger.”

“She had it, Thomas,” Marcus said. “And now she is gone.”

One of the men in the raincoats stepped up behind Thomas.

Before Thomas could turn, the man struck him across the back of the knees with a heavy wooden club.