Katherine Nicolai

And that meant taking matters into my own hands and possibly some very gentle trespassing.

You see, I am a lilac thief.

I don't strike at random.

My crimes aren't ham-fisted or even much noticed.

I'm a subtle thief.

I plan when and where and make my getaway before anyone is the wiser.

When I walk my neighborhood, I might casually reach up for a stray blossom.

creeping through the slats of a fence, and just as casually tuck it into the flag of a mailbox for someone to find later.

But I know better than to pull a real heist so close to home.

For that, I packed a kit into my car.

wicker basket, garden gloves, twine, and a small set of pruning shears.

I dressed inconspicuously and drove out into the countryside.

There was an old farmhouse, long abandoned,

on a dirt road that I knew well.

I'd cased the joint years ago and found the house reliably empty and the yard reliably full of lilac trees.

I parked my car on the edge of the road to give myself a bit of plausible deniability

After all, perhaps I just had a spot of car trouble and was letting an overheated engine cool down and had stopped to smell the roses, as it were.

I chuckled to myself as I took my kit from the back seat, master criminal that I was.

and made my way down the long and dusty drive that led to the house.

I stood with the sun on my face for a few moments and let my imagination spin a story about who might have lived here.