Nathan Snake's Arc

Chapter 3 of 13

Nathan left the graveyard just before noon, telling Jane he'd be back by evening. She nodded from the kitchen table where she was copying something from a leather journal, fingers stained with ink. He didn't mention the church or the red key in his pocket. Some conversations needed to wait until he knew what he was walking into. But when he returned at dusk, the front door stood half open. Nathan stopped on the threshold, cigarette between his fingers going cold. Jane never left doors open. He stepped inside and saw the desk first — drawers yanked out, papers scattered across the floor, ink spilled dark across the wood surface. Books pulled from shelves and left spine-up on the rug. Someone had torn through the house looking for something specific, and they hadn't bothered hiding the damage. The bloody footprints led from the desk to the back door. Not much blood, just enough to mark the floor in uneven prints that suggested a limp or a hurry. Nathan followed them through the kitchen where chairs lay tipped on their sides. Jane's journal was still on the table, untouched. The coin jar was still on the shelf. Whoever came through here wasn't after money or medical records. They wanted something older, something written down and hidden. He found Jane at Helga McDool's house three doors down, safe and shaken. She'd gone to borrow thread and come back to find the mess. Nathan walked her home and locked the door behind them, then knelt beside the scattered papers. Most were recipes, letters, household notes — nothing worth stealing. But the intruder had opened every drawer, checked every book spine, searched like they expected to find a diary or a map. Nathan's hand went to his coat pocket where the graveyard diary still sat, and he understood. Someone else knew the church's records didn't tell the whole story. And now they knew he'd found something worth taking.