Standoff At Christmas

The door to the second bedroom was ajar but not open. Jake shouldered his way into the room but stayed by the entrance. “She must not be here. Could she have gone somewhere with anyone?”

“Maybe. I suppose she could have fled when she saw the chaos, but she most likely would have contacted her sister or me.”

“Have you called Linda?”

“No, I didn’t want to alarm her if I didn’t have to. If anything happened to Aunt Betty, we would be devastated.” Like when Jake had left Port Aurora years ago. His departure had stunned her, as if he’d taken part of her with him. She cared about the town and its people, but her family and Jake had been the most important people in her life. “I’ll call her, then we can stay inside by the front door.”

While Rachel placed a call to Aunt Linda, Jake picked his way through the mess in the living room to look into the kitchen. When she answered, Rachel said, “I’m at Aunt Betty’s house. Her car is here, but she isn’t. She was upset today, and I wanted to make sure she was all right. Do you know anything?”

“Well, that explains the weird message from her at lunchtime. I was waiting until she got home to call her. Her car is there?”

“Yes, where she parks it in the shed.” Rachel glanced at the chaos and hated to tell Aunt Linda, but she continued. “Someone tore her house apart as though they were looking for something. For all I know, they could have found it.”

Her aunt gasped. “I’ll be right there.”

“No, stay put. The police are on the way. What did the message say?”

“That she should never have taken those pictures.”

“What pictures?” Rachel asked as Jake returned to her side.

“I’m not sure. You know how she’s always snapping pictures. She was excited about some new project and was going to show us this weekend. She told me one day the town might want to even display the photos.”

Maybe that had been what she’d wanted to talk to Rachel about. But then if that were the case, why had someone searched her house? Strange. “Display what?”

“She was being secretive. You know how she is about the big reveal when she gets an idea. Why would anyone try to steal from her? The only things worth taking are the TV and her camera, although it isn’t a digital one like most people use today. Are they still there?”

“The TV is. I didn’t check for the camera in her darkroom, but Jake said that second bedroom was trashed like the rest of the house.”

“Really, I can’t see someone taking it. It’s old. Not something that someone would steal. How about her food processor I gave her for her birthday?”

Rachel remembered seeing it in the kitchen, in pieces. “It’s here.”

A long pause from her aunt, then in a tight, low tone, she said, “Then something has happened to her.” Her voice sounded thick.

Rachel peered out the front window, seeing headlights piercing the snowy darkness. “The police have arrived. I’ve got to go. I’ll be home as soon as I can. We’re probably overreacting.” At least she prayed she was.

“Rachel, let me know what’s going on. If you need my help, call. Are you sure I shouldn’t come over?”

“Yes, she might call you. Someone needs to be there. Besides, the police are here, and they’ll probably kick us out while they check the house. When we find Aunt Betty, she’ll need you and me to help her clean this mess up.” If they find Aunt Betty. She couldn’t rid her mind of that thought.

Jake opened the door for the two police officers from town—the older man, Police Chief Randall Quay, and the younger one, Officer Steve Bates.

The chief shook Jake’s hand. “It’s good to see you back home. What do you think?” He gestured toward the trashed living room.

“I’ve searched the house as much as I could without disturbing anything, but there are some places I didn’t get to check. The closet in the second bedroom, the pantry and the back arctic entry.”

“Aunt Betty used the closet in the second bedroom as a darkroom.”

The chief nodded once, then turned back to Jake. “Can you help me? Since you’re here, I’d like to send Officer Bates on up the road. We are shorthanded with this storm that moved in early. It seems to bring the crazies out.”

“Sure, I can help. Mitch here can track if we need that.”

“Betty is a special lady. She taught me in Sunday school.” Chief Quay moved farther into the room while his officer left. He frowned, his gaze fixed on a broken vase. “She didn’t deserve this.” He pulled out a camera and started taking pictures of the living room.

“I can cover the kitchen.” Jake started forward.

“I appreciate it. We need to find Betty.” The chief turned to Rachel. “Can you make some calls to people she may know and see if she’s with them?”

“I already called Aunt Linda, and she’s not with her. But I know a few others she’s close with at the fishery. I’ll give them a call.” Rachel pulled out her cell to use the list of phone numbers stored in it. She was relieved to be able to help and needed to stay busy to keep from fixating on what might have happened to her aunt. She picked up the phone and began dialing.

* * *

Jake carefully started on one side of the kitchen and made his way around it. Behind the island in the center in the midst of the emptied flour on the floor, he found footprints—one set, too big to be Betty’s, more like a man’s size eleven. He took a photo with his cell of that and anything else of interest. He refrained from touching anything in case the chief wanted to dust for latent prints.

So far no evidence that Betty had been here when this happened—except her car parked in the shed. That would need to be searched, too. In fact, after he went through the kitchen he would go out the back arctic entry and check Betty’s old pickup.

When he reached the pantry, he used a gloved hand to open the door. His gaze riveted to the spots of blood on the wooden floor about six inches inside. He lifted his eyes and scanned the disarray, homing in on bloody fingerprints on a shelf as if someone tried to hold on to it. Maybe trying to get up? Whatever went on in here, a fight occurred in this walk-in pantry. Did the intruder find Betty hiding?

The question still persisted. Then where is Betty?

He took more photos, then proceeded to the arctic entry. A pair of boots and a woman’s heavy coat hanging on a peg were the only things in the small room. He took the coat and let Mitch sniff it, then kept hold of it in case he needed it again. His dog smelled the floor and paused by the exit outside. This was probably the way Betty came into her house since this was closer than the front entrance to the shed. Jake returned to the kitchen and grabbed a flashlight on the wall by the door.

On the stoop, Jake took in the area. The snow falling had filled in any footsteps, but that wouldn’t stop Mitch. His German shepherd sniffed the air and started down the three steps, then headed toward Betty’s pickup.

As he approached the driver side of the vehicle, he spied a bloody print on the metal handle. Not a good sign. Mitch barked at the door.

Jake said, “Stay,” then skirted the rear of the old truck and opened the passenger door. The seat was empty.

Then he investigated under the tarp over the bed of the Ford F-150, using the interior light from the cab. Nothing.

“Where is she?” Rachel asked as she approached, carrying a flashlight. “I called at least twenty women she knew from church and the fishery, and no one knows where she is. One lady said she got ill after lunch and left. That would mean she should have gotten home by one. What happened in those three hours?”

Something not good.

“Is the chief through in the house?”

“He didn’t find anything in the second bedroom but was going to go through Betty’s. Did you find anything?”

He hated to tell her. Rachel had always been close to both of her aunts. “Blood in the pantry and on the driver’s door handle.”

“Do you think someone attacked her in the house and—” Rachel swallowed hard “—somehow she got away? Did she try to leave and that person caught up with her?” Her large brown eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I didn’t see any blood inside on the seat. I don’t think she ever opened the door.”

Rachel blinked once, and a tear ran down her face. She swung around in a full circle, the flashlight sending an arc of illumination across the yard. “Then where is she? Why would anyone want to hurt Aunt Betty?”

Jake moved to his dog and let him inhale her scent on the coat again. “Find.” While Mitch smelled around, Jake said to Rachel, “Let’s see if he can pick up a trail going away from the house or shed.”

Blond hair peeking out from under her beanie, Rachel swept her arm to indicate the yard outside the shed. “She could have decided to hide out here because she didn’t have her truck keys on her.”

“Maybe.”

“But then why didn’t she come forward when we arrived?” Rachel took one look at his sober expression and added, “Never mind. She would if she could...” Her gaze locked with his. “Could have.”

Mitch picked up a scent, barked, then headed out of the shed across the field toward a stand of spruce and other evergreens. Giving his dog a long leash, Jake followed with Rachel beside him. Mitch plowed his way through four or five inches of snow.

At a place his German shepherd had disturbed, Jake yelled, “Halt,” then stooped to examine a couple of drops of blood in the white snow with his flashlight.

Rachel’s gasp sounded above the noise of the wind. He glanced over his shoulder at her face, white like the snow. He wished he could erase the fear in her eyes.

“You should return to the house and let the chief know.”

Rachel shook her head. “I started this. I want to find her. I’ve been praying she’s still alive and only hurt. Time is of the essence. She could freeze to death.”

He rose, commanded Mitch to continue his search, then took her gloved hand in his. “We’ll do this together.” He felt better having her by his side rather than trekking back to the house alone about five hundred yards away.

As they trailed behind Mitch, Jake prepared himself. Betty could have been out here without a coat for hours. He stopped again a couple of times when more blood became visible in the glow of his light. Mitch was following Betty’s path closely. If anyone could find her, his dog could.

Among the trees, the snow on the ground wasn’t as thick because the top branches were heavy with it. They saw evidence of more blood, and Rachel’s expression lost all hope her aunt was still alive. Tears returned to glisten in her eyes.

Mitch’s bark echoed through the woods. He stopped about twenty feet away. Jake spotted a shadowy lump in the snow and blocked Rachel’s path. “Go back and get Chief Quay.”

Rachel tried to look around Jake.

“Please, Rachel. I think Mitch found Betty.”

“Then I need to see if I can help her.”

“If she’s alive, I can. I trained as a paramedic when I first went to Anchorage.” He’d been debating whether to continue his career of being a police officer in the big city or wanting to try something else before making that decision.

She looked into his face, snowflakes catching on her long eyelashes. She blinked, trying to conquer the tears welling in her eyes.

“Please, Rachel.”

She whirled about and hurried back, following the path already cut. When she’d cleared the trees, Jake quickened his pace toward Mitch. Betty, stiff as if totally frozen with a bloodied head wound, leaned against a tree trunk facing away from the house. Had she been trying to hide? Her lower body was covered with a white blanket of snow while she hugged her sweater-clad arms to her chest. She stared off into space.

Betty was dead, but Jake knelt next to her and felt for a pulse to make sure. He said a silent prayer, something he hadn’t done in a long while. She was with the Lord.

He would find whoever did this.

THREE

“Aunt Linda, I can call Lawrence and Jake and reschedule this dinner for another night.” Rachel stood in the entrance to the kitchen where her aunt was cooking a beef stew and putting some rolls in the oven to bake.

“All I have to do is the bread. The stew has been simmering half the day.” She turned from the stove, her eyes red from crying for the past hour. Aunt Linda held the baking sheet in her hands like a shield, her fingertips red from her tight grip on it. “I know Randall asked you to come home, but Jake stayed and I want to know what they found out about Betty’s death. Murder! I still can’t believe it.” She slammed the cookie sheet on the countertop and placed the rolls on it. “My sister was one of the sweetest people in Port Aurora. She never hurt a soul. I’ve got to make some sense out of this.”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to do that.”

“They should have been here five minutes ago. Call them to make sure they’re coming,” her aunt, a petite woman with short blond hair, said in a determined voice.

Aunt Linda was always where she was supposed to be on time, if not early. “I will,” Rachel said before her aunt decided to do it instead. Since she’d returned home an hour ago, Aunt Linda had fluctuated between tears and anger, much like what Rachel had been experiencing since she glimpsed Aunt Betty leaning against the tree. Stiff. Snow covering her.

As Rachel made her way into the living room, she heard the doorbell. She continued into the arctic entry and let Jake and his grandfather into the house. They removed their snowshoes and stomped their feet to shake off what snow they could.

“You two walked?”

“The wind has died down some.” Jake removed his beanie.

“But the snow is still coming down a lot.” Rachel had been looking forward to seeing him and spending time with her best friend from childhood. A few months ago, he’d almost died, and now her aunt had been murdered.

“With what happened this afternoon, I needed to walk some of my stress off.” Jake hung his coat and his grandfather’s on two pegs in the arctic entry and headed into the living room.

Lawrence looked around. “Where’s Linda?”

“In the kitchen. Dinner will be soon.”

“I’ll go see how she’s coping. I still can’t believe someone would kill Betty.” Lawrence strode from the room.

The second he was gone, Rachel pivoted toward Jake. “Tell me what happened after I left.”

“How’s Linda doing?”

“Mad one minute, emotional the next. She wants to find the person responsible and...” Rachel’s mouth twisted. “I’m not sure what she would do, but she wants the murderer caught. She’s trying to make some sense of what happened to her sister.”

“Have her come in here, and I’ll tell both of you before dinner. Although I can’t say any of it makes sense.”

Rachel headed toward the kitchen, but Lawrence and Aunt Linda were already at the doorway.

“I turned the oven on to warm so the rolls ought to be fine while Jake tells us what happened.” Aunt Linda took a seat on the couch with Lawrence next to her, his arm around her shoulder. Her aunt leaned against Jake’s grandfather as though she couldn’t hold herself upright without him.

Jake stood by the roaring fireplace, while Rachel sat down and told her part of the story. “When I went back to Betty’s house, Officer Bates had returned and was trying to pull fingerprints while the chief finished with photos, especially of the kitchen and pantry. When I told him what we found, he left his officer processing evidence and told me to go home, then he started toward the woods.” The sight of Aunt Betty on the ground haunted her. Rachel shut the memory down and shifted her attention to Jake. “Your turn.”

With his hands behind his back, he drew in a deep breath. “The chief took photos of Betty, then we carried her to the house. When I left, he was waiting for Doc to come take her. It appeared she died either from the head wound from someone hitting her with some kind of round object—possibly a can from the pantry—or she succumbed to the cold. Either way, the police chief is looking at the case as a murder.”

Aunt Linda dropped her head, tears falling on her lap. “I can’t believe this.”

Lawrence cupped Aunt Linda’s hand in her lap. “We haven’t had a murder here in years. A couple of deadly bar fights. That’s all.”

“Do you know if they found what they were looking for?” Aunt Linda lifted her gaze, her eyes red.

“No. The police don’t know what she had of value at her house.” Jake stepped away from the fire and took the last seat in the living room. “Was the TV the only thing of value that a robber would steal?”

Her aunt shook her head. “She had a few pieces of jewelry, but nothing to kill over, a state-of-the-art food processor and an old Kodak camera. Do you think Chief Quay would like for me to go through the house and see if I can find anything?”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. It might help to know if that was the motive for the break-in. Knowing the motive might help find the killer.”

Rachel remembered her brief encounters with Aunt Betty earlier that day. “I don’t think it’s a robbery. I think Aunt Betty discovered something that concerned her. She asked about talking to you, Jake, because you were a police officer in Anchorage. Aunt Linda, do you know of any place she uses for hiding valuable items? I can’t think of any.”

Her head lowered, Aunt Linda stared at her folded hands, the thumbs twirling around each other. “She had a cubbyhole in her kitchen. If you didn’t know about it, you wouldn’t see it. It’s where the two cabinets form an L-shape near the sink. But it only can hide small objects. She kept her spare key to the truck in there. A diamond ring our mother passed on to her. I’m not sure what else.”

“Then that should be checked.” Rachel glanced at Jake, who nodded. “We can do that tomorrow.”

Her teeth digging into her lower lip, Aunt Linda rose. “Since we’re her only living relatives, it’s our responsibility to see to her—” she swallowed several times “—belongings. Now, I’m going to set the table, and dinner will be in about ten minutes.”

Lawrence also stood. “I’ll help.”

After they left the room, Jake leaned across the end table that separated their chairs and said in a low voice, “Is something going on between your aunt and my grandfather?”

“Good friends. That’s all. Over the years, they’ve helped each other, and their friendship has grown. It kind of reminds me of us when we were kids. Not that I’m saying theirs is childish. Aunt Linda told me a few years ago that she’d had a wonderful marriage she would always cherish in her memory, but she didn’t want to get married again.”

“How about you? I thought by now you’d be married. You have so much to offer a man.”

But not you. When they had been friends, before Celeste, Rachel had wondered if Jake and she would fall in love, and whether the marriage would work—unlike her mother’s six marriages—because she knew Jake so well. Her mother would date a man for a couple of months, marry him, then discard him in a few years. “I don’t have a lot of faith in marriage—at least what I’ve seen of it.”

“You might be right. A successful marriage is becoming rarer.”

“Is my cynicism rubbing off on you?”

He grinned. “I’ve been around you for a day, and look what happened.” His gaze shifted to the Christmas tree in front of the living room window. “Your lights were what we focused on. Even with it snowing, we could see them from our front porch. Of course, it’s not snowing as hard as earlier.”

“We always decorate the day after Thanksgiving. Aunt Betty comes over...” Thinking about how her aunt died churned her stomach. She needed to forget the last few hours for a while or she wouldn’t be able to help Aunt Linda. “Is Lawrence going to put a tree up this year? He usually doesn’t because he visits you in Anchorage.”

“He hasn’t said. Maybe I should go cut one down like we used to, and then he’d have no choice. He always insists we do when he comes to visit, so turnaround is fair play. He’s really a kid at heart.”

Rachel took in the hard edge to Jake’s expression and the reserve he didn’t have as a teen. She missed who he’d been. “But you aren’t. From what he’s told me, you’re very serious and focused.”

“Being a police officer in a large town colors your perception. Sadly, I have covered murders. I’d forgotten the charm of Port Aurora and the lack of what I call real crime.”

“You should come home more often.” This exchange brought memories of how they were as teenagers. They used to tell each other everything—until Celeste. She changed Jake. He became closed, and in the end he left because she married Brad Howard. That hurt her more than she cared to acknowledge.

“We’ll see.”

“Have you seen Celeste yet?”

His shoulders tensed. “I’ve only been here less than a day.”

“But you were in town for hours, and it’s a small place. She and Brad don’t live far from the main street.”

“I’ve seen that big house overlooking the harbor.”

“You mean the audacious home looming over the town,” she said with a forced chuckle.

Jake pushed to his feet. “I can smell the dinner, and I’m starving. Let’s eat.” He held out his hand to her.

Celeste was still a sore subject with him. That broke her heart. Rachel wanted him to be happy and move on from Celeste. Rachel placed her hand in his, and he tugged her up. For a few seconds they were only inches apart, his spicy scent—or maybe the Christmas tree nearby—teased her senses and blended with the aromas of the bread and beef stew.

At least he loved someone once. You don’t even want to take that chance.

* * *

The next morning, after Gramps plowed the long drive from the road to the cluster of houses, Jake headed for town to talk with the police chief, a man he’d worked with for over a year, before he moved away. Randall had taught him a lot, but his real police training came when he went to Anchorage.

Jake parked in front of the police station, a small building, nothing like where he worked. When he entered, he saw the chief coming out of his office and putting a paper down in front of the dispatcher/secretary. From what he understood, only seven officers worked for the department besides Randall, three more than when he had been an officer on this force. That wasn’t too bad in the winter months when the year-round population was a little over four thousand, but in the warmer months there was an influx of tourists, mostly hunters and fishermen.

Randall came toward Jake and shook his hand. “I’m sure glad you could help out yesterday. I have one officer on vacation, and with the storm yesterday, there are always more wrecks.”

“While I’m here, I’d be glad to help out, if needed. I wanted to know what the cause of Betty’s death was.”

“The verdict was she passed out and froze to death. It was estimated by body temperature she was outside close to three hours.”

“Are you calling it a murder?”

The chief nodded. “She wouldn’t have been outside with a head wound if someone hadn’t intruded in her house and hit her.”

“Did you find the weapon?”

“Yes, a can of soup. I think the attacker left her in the pantry where she had probably been hiding and continued his search. She must have awakened and fled outside.”

“How many people do you think it is?”

“We have two different sets of footprints in the house that weren’t Betty’s.” Randall half leaned, half sat on his dispatcher’s desk as Officers Bates and Clark walked from the back of the station, talking.

“Any latent prints that you could match?”

Randall signaled for Bates to join them. “Yes, one, but the print isn’t in our system. Did Linda know what might have been taken from Betty’s? If someone wanted to steal, I could think of many better off than her.”

“No, but Linda and Rachel are going to start cleaning up since I checked with one of your officers this morning. He said you’re through with the crime scene.”

Randall glanced toward Bates. “We were there until late, processing the scene. Finished about ten o’clock. If Linda or Rachel find anything missing, please let me know.”