Chapter 23: The Stolen Amulet

It was cold and cloudy that Saturday morning in late November. Although it had not snowed for a week, a few remnants of snow remained in the shadows on the north sides of the houses along Hawthorne Drive. Neither rain nor snow had been in the morning's forecast, but a swiftly moving layer of low gray clouds threatened to make the weatherman a liar.

An old white minivan drove past the Hawthorne House. It slowed and stopped before turning around to park in front of the Victorian mansion. As if made sick by the cold weeks of winter weather, the minivan shuddered and loudly coughed up a large cloud of smoke as its engine rattled and died. The van had seen better days. The long ladders on its roof rack were covered with a rainbow of splattered paint Long, brown patches of rust had eaten through the base of its metal body where salt and dirty slush had splashed up from the road. "Smith's Painting and Home Repair" was written in large black letters on its side.