He moved toward the window to investigate. The study was on the second floor of the house and the window overlooked a small stretch of yard and the neighbors’ property. Niccoldi opened it and peered out. He saw nothing but the dark of night.
The black blot of the boot swung down and caught him flush in the face. He felt his nose break and a tooth dislodge. Blood gushed as he went caterwauling backwards, the light carpet beneath him gathering raindrop-sized stains. Somehow, he stayed on his feet.
His vision blurry from the pain, Niccoldi saw a raincoat-clad figure swoop in through the open window. The attacker seized him by the arm and, grunting with effort, whipped him into a bookshelf. Niccoldi was able to turn slightly to dull the impact, but it did him little good. Pain shot through his right shoulder; texts from the upper shelves tumbled and battered the top of his head.