Love Inspired Suspense December 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 (4 page)

“I just heard about Betty this morning,” Sean said when he glimpsed Jake. “She was such a good employee. I should have realized something was wrong when she went home early yesterday.”

Jake moved up in the line. “Linda and Rachel are planning a memorial service for her next week. Police Chief Quay said the church wouldn't even be able to accommodate most of the people who would attend. If that's the case, is there anything at the fishery that could be used?”

Sean rubbed the back of his neck. “Don't know. I'd have to talk with Brad about it. I'm sure he would want to do something. Betty worked at the fishery for most of her life.”

Jake leaned toward Sean. “Yeah, I can hardly believe she's dead. Murdered.”

Sean's eyes widened. “Betty? Why?”

“You haven't heard—a robbery gone bad.”

“I tried to stay away from the rumor mill. Betty doesn't have that much.”

“That's what Linda said. She and Rachel are at her house, trying to figure out what was stolen. I have a few errands, and then I'm going to help them later.” Jake stepped up to the counter to buy his coffee.

“I'll let you know what Brad says about a bigger place for the memorial service.” Sean made his way toward the exit.

After Jake ordered his drink, he grabbed a basket and found the aisle for cleaning supplies, staying away from the café section where Brad and Celeste sat.

Jake finished his coffee and paid for the items he bought. When he stepped outside, the chill made him think about what had happened to Betty. Anger swelled in his gut. Why did bad things happen to good people? He'd asked the Lord that many times. Maybe life as a police officer in Anchorage wasn't really for him? And yet, he'd only been home one day and a murder occurred in this usually peaceful town.

He walked around the corner of the large store. When he reached his grandfather's SUV, the rear driver's side tire was flat. He stuck the sack of supplies in the back and got out what he needed to replace it with a spare. As he knelt to fix the jack under the car, he glanced at the front tire—flat like the back one. Jake examined it and found a large slit in it.

This wasn't an accident. Someone did this on purpose.

* * *

Carrying a sack of supplies, Rachel stepped into Betty's house, drew in a fortifying breath and said, “Remember this place was trashed.”

“I've seen trashed before. Your dad was the messiest guy.” Hands full with a mop, broom and garbage bags, Aunt Linda entered a few paces behind Rachel. She glanced at the living room and blew out a rush of air. “Okay. This tops anything your dad did.”

“Probably more than one person did this. Going through everything takes time. Jake was stopping by the police station to talk to Chief Quay.”

Aunt Linda shook her head as her gaze skimmed over the piles of items on the floor. “I hope Betty didn't see this. Everything in her house had a place, and she kept it that way. Very organized. It will take days to go through, but I'm determined to see if anything is missing. I have a good idea what she has of value that a burglar might want.”

“I can't see this as a robbery gone bad. Everyone knows her in town. They know she has limited funds and just makes it every month.”

“Where do we start?” Aunt Linda leaned the mop and broom against the wall.

“In here. If we can get this room and her bedroom done today, I'll consider it good, then after church tomorrow, we can come work on the kitchen. It's the worst.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But first, we should check to see if her valuables are still in the hidey-hole in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I'm sure the police chief would like to know if anything was taken as soon as possible. It might help him find who did this.” Aunt Linda crossed the living room to the kitchen entrance and halted. “This looks like a tornado went through here. Why were they emptying food boxes? What in the world were they looking for?”

“Some people have hidden cash in cereal, flour, whatever.”

Aunt Linda harrumphed. “That gives me the willies. What about the germs?”

“Usually they have them in something plastic.” Over her aunt's shoulder, Rachel gestured to the open freezer, a puddle of water on the floor nearby. “People have been known to hide money and stuff like that in the freezer.”

“Obviously, it didn't work. They checked it. But really, the intruders couldn't have known Betty very well, or they wouldn't have wasted their time.”

Rachel thought back to the panicked look on Aunt Betty's face the day before. She could still hear the scared desperation in Aunt Betty's voice in the break room. Why didn't she talk to the local police?

Aunt Linda stepped over the worst of the mess on the floor and covered the distance to the counter area she'd described last night. With her foot, she brushed some empty boxes and cans away, then knelt. She reached into the cubbyhole at the junction of the cabinets. “Got something.”

Rachel stooped down behind her aunt. “Do we have anything like this at our house?”

“Nope.” Aunt Linda slid out a plastic bag with a few pieces of jewelry and another with several keys and gave them to Rachel, then she stuck her hand back inside. “There's something else. Feels like one of her photos—actually several.”

When her aunt drew them out and examined them, Rachel looked over Aunt Linda's shoulder. “That's the shipping room at the fishery. Why would she take a picture of that? She didn't work in that department.”

“I don't know. Maybe there are more in her darkroom.” Linda glanced back at Rachel. “The camera she used was old—one she had for years. She still used film. That was probably her one luxury. Buying film and what she needed to process her own photos.”

“Three pictures are all that's in the cubbyhole?”

“Let me check to make sure. It goes back to the wall.” Her aunt rechecked and came up empty-handed. “Before we start cleaning, let's see what's left of her darkroom. Most of her photos are of nature. She is... I mean, she was good. Photography made her happy.”

Rachel clasped her shoulder, hearing the pain in her aunt's voice. She leaned over and hugged her. “She's with God now.”

Aunt Linda cleared her throat. “I know. But...” She gave her head one hard shake, then pulled herself to her feet. “This isn't getting her house cleaned. Betty would have hated her house this way.”

As they made their way to the second bedroom closet, Rachel slipped the items from the hidey-hole into her pocket.

“I remember it took Betty a year to save up for her camera. She was so excited when she finally got it. I bought her enough film that I think it lasted six months, even though she went out every weekend and took pictures of things that interested her.”

Rachel dragged the door open, so that Aunt Linda and she could peer into the darkroom side by side in the entrance.

“I don't see her camera,” her aunt mumbled, then crouched down and began moving the clutter to see what was under it. “She keeps it in here on the hook by the door. It's not there, and whatever she was processing was destroyed. Could that be the reason someone came to her house?”

The scent of the chemicals still lingered in the air, but something else invaded and began to overpower that odor. Rachel swiveled around and went to the entrance into the bedroom. As she took in a deep breath away from the closet, a whiff of smoke grew stronger.

Rachel hurried into the living room, her gaze riveting to flames licking up the drapes on the front and side of the house.

CHAPTER FOUR

J
ake paced the reception area of Max's Garage while Max changed his second slashed tire and replaced it with a new one. He'd tried calling Rachel at Linda's and then at Betty's house but got no answer. He'd even called his grandfather to send him over to Betty's, but he must still be outside plowing some of the roads for people near them. Why would anyone slash his tires unless they wanted him delayed in town?

The hairs on his nape stood up. Something was wrong, and the only thing he could think about was Rachel and Linda over at Betty's. What if the intruders hadn't found what they were looking for and came back?

He snatched up the receiver to call the police. When the dispatcher answered, he asked, “Is Chief Quay in?”

“No, he's out on a call. In fact, everyone is busy. May I help you?”

“This is Jake Nichols. I was in there earlier. Ask him to go to Betty Marshal's house as soon as possible.” Maybe he was overreacting. He hoped he was.

“That was so sad about her being killed yesterday. Is something wrong at her house?”

“Rachel Hart and Linda Thomas were going to Betty's house to clean it up and see if they could discover if anything had been stolen. My tires were slashed when I was parked at the general store, and now no one is answering at Betty's house. I think something could be wrong.” Jake looked toward the counter and saw Max with his keys. Jake rose. “I'll be heading there now.”

“I'll call the chief and let him know. In the meantime, Officer Bates is nearer. I'll see if he can drive by.”

“Thanks.” Jake hung up and headed toward Max. “I appreciate the rush.”

“I put the new spare in the back. Someone wasn't happy with you. Do you think it's somehow connected to what happened at Betty's?”

Jake shrugged and grabbed his keys. “I don't know, but I don't want to take the chance.” Then he started for the car in the bay area in the back.

He pushed his SUV as much as he could without ending up in a ditch. The unsettled feeling in his gut wouldn't go away. In fact, it grew stronger the closer he got to Betty's house.

His heartbeat kicked up several notches when he spied a plume of smoke billowing in the cloudy sky in the direction where he was heading. He pressed down the accelerator.

* * *

“Aunt Linda,” Rachel screamed over the crackling of the fire as she raced back to the second bedroom. “We've got to get out of here.”

Her aunt rushed out of the darkroom, her eyes round like the full moon a few nights ago. “Why?”

“The living room is on fire.”

Aunt Linda hurried past Rachel, and when she reached the end of the hallway, smoke invaded the corridor. Putting her hand over her mouth, her aunt stopped and peered into the living room, a thick gray cloud filling the whole area.

“We can't get out the front door,” Rachel said as the fire consumed that part of the house. She swiveled her attention toward the kitchen and noticed smoke mushrooming through the doorway. Grabbing her aunt's arm, she tugged her away. “We can't get out that way, either. We'll climb out a window.” But when she hastened into the first bedroom, her gaze fixed on the high windows that allowed sunlight inside but would be hard to climb out of.

“There's a bigger one in the bathroom. The other bedroom is just like this—a set of high, narrow windows.” Aunt Linda pivoted and raced to the bathroom.

When Rachel rushed inside behind her, she nearly ran into her aunt, who stood still in front of the frosted pane. “It's smaller than I thought, and the glass is thicker than normal.”

Aunt Linda whirled around, looking for anything to break the window. Nothing. Rachel hurried back to Betty's bedroom to find something while her aunt checked the second one. In the midst of the clutter on the floor, Rachel didn't see anything that would break the glass.

Smoke snaked into the room. Rachel pulled her turtleneck over her mouth and continued her search. Her gaze fell on a metal flashlight that might work. She had to try it. She snatched it up and raced back to the bathroom. After putting the toilet seat down, she climbed on top of it and swung the flashlight toward the thick, frosted glass. It bounced off, not even cracking the window.

* * *

Jake pulled into the long driveway to Betty's house, spying Rachel's Jeep. Flames mixed with blackened smoke shot up from the roof of the cabin. He pulled out his cell phone and prayed he had reception. A dead zone. His throat tightened with the thought of what Rachel and Linda must be going through—if they were even still alive. The idea of not seeing Rachel again stole his breath.

That
'
s not going to happen if I can help it.

He slammed his SUV into park and jumped from it. The front door blazed as fire ate at the wood around it. He raced to the side of the house, then the back entrance. The same sight greeted him as though someone started the fire at the points of entry. He hurried to the left where the bedrooms were. When his gaze latched on to the long, slender windows at the top of the bedroom, the thundering of his heartbeat vied with the roar of the fire. Then he remembered the other bedroom was the same.

He moved toward the bathroom, trying to imagine what the window was like. Frosted and thick, but he could see movement behind the pane. Someone was still alive. It would be hard, but he thought both Rachel and Linda could fit through the opening.

He swept around, trying to find something to break the glass with. He ran to the shed and found a sledgehammer in the tool closet. When he hurried back to the house, he stood near and shouted, “Get back. I'm going to break the glass.”

He lifted the sledgehammer onto his shoulder, praying that whoever was in the bathroom had moved back, but he had no choice. Getting cut was better than dying in a fire. He swung the tool toward the window with all the strength he could muster.

* * *

Rachel had tried several more times with the flashlight, then discarded it. Needing something else she climbed down from the toilet. Fingers of smoke crept into the room.

Coughing, her aunt scurried into the bathroom with a shotgun and gave it to Rachel. Then Aunt Linda closed the door and stuffed some towels under it. “We don't have much time. Maybe we could use the gun like a bat or shoot at the glass.”

Rachel checked to see if the weapon was loaded. “If shooting doesn't work, we can try the other way.” She lifted the shotgun and aimed. Her ears pounded with the beating of her heart. With the noise of the crackling fire coming down the hallway, she put her finger on the trigger.

“Wait. Listen.” Aunt Linda grabbed Rachel's arm. “That sounds like Jake.”

Something slammed into the window. Her aunt shoved her into the bathtub as the glass exploded into the room. The backs of her legs hit the edge of the tub, and Rachel tumbled backward, her aunt following her. A few shards pierced Rachel's arm as she put it up to block her face. Her body crashed against the hard white acrylic, knocking the breath from her.

“Rachel. Linda,” Jake shouted as he appeared in the smashed window.

Aunt Linda rolled off Rachel and replied, “We're okay.”

With a sledgehammer, Jake began knocking the rest of the glass out of the frame. “Grab some towels to lay on the ledge. You need to hurry. The fire is working its way to this side.”

Her aunt scrambled from the bathtub and held her hand out for Rachel to take. Still trying to catch a decent breath, she gripped her aunt's hand and let her haul her to her feet. Aunt Linda helped her out of the tub and removed the towels from under the door. Smoke poured into the room from every crack around the door seal. It tickled Rachel's throat, and she coughed. She pulled her turtleneck over her month again, but the smoke stung her watering eyes.

“Ready?” Jake took the towels that Aunt Linda gave him and placed them on the ledge. “I'll help you from this side.”

“You go first.” Rachel helped her aunt up onto the closed toilet seat. She couldn't lose her other aunt. Please, Lord.

The cuts on Rachel's arms hurt, and blood dripped onto the tile floor. She took a washcloth to help stem the flow while Aunt Linda leaned into the window. Rachel helped her out the hole. Her aunt was petite, and she barely made it.

A loud boom shook the house. Rachel glanced back at the door.

“Hurry, Rachel. The fire is spreading over the roof.” Urgency filled Jake's voice.

The sound of his voice calmed the fear rising in her even as she climbed onto her perch, leaped to the window and grabbed Jake's hands to hold tight. Her legs dangled in midair in the bathroom. She wriggled her body, trying to move forward, while Jake pulled her toward him. Her side rubbed against the frame, and something sharp scraped her.

She groaned.

“Okay?”

“There must be some glass on my right, but don't stop.”

“Sorry, I thought I got all the glass out of the frame.”

“Pull harder. My shoulders are barely through, but my hips are bigger.”

“Scoot as much to the left as you can. I'll find something to put between you and the frame on the right.”

Another crash sounded behind her. Time was running out.

Rachel managed to shift a tad bit while Jake said, “I'll be right back. I remember a piece of flashing in the shed.” Jake raced toward the small building.

Without Jake to block the wind, it bombarded Rachel with cold and the scent of smoke and burning wood. Coughs racked her while Jake rushed back. He took the flashing and put it between her and the window frame.

“This should help you move easier.” Then he grabbed her arms and yanked.

“Just get me out.” She imagined the flames eating away at the door, any second bursting into the room.

He pulled slowly at first, and then the second her hips cleared, she slipped out easily, almost toppling into him.

After moving away from the house, he gathered her into his embrace and held her for a few seconds. “I thought I'd lost you when I saw the house on fire.”

She nestled against him, relishing the warmth of him and the sense of safety she felt. In that moment she never wanted to leave the shelter of his arms.

“Are you okay?” he murmured against the top of her head.

She nodded against his chest, then turned within his arms and looked at the cabin nearly consumed totally by the flames. “This was no accident. The fire was at the back and front exits. Even the windows we could have easily been able to escape through were consumed with flames.”

Her face ashen and wearing Jake's coat, Aunt Linda stepped closer. “Someone wanted to destroy Betty's house. Why?”

“Good question and one I intend to find out. No one goes after you two without answering to me.” Jake's arms cuddled Rachel even closer. “I don't want to go through that again.”

“Neither do I,” Rachel whispered, her throat raw.

“I'm taking you to town to report this to the police and see the doctor.”

Not wanting to leave his arms, Rachel glanced over her shoulder. “Take us home. We'll call the police and report the fire.”

“Nope. You need to have Doc look at your injuries.” He released her and examined her right side. “You're bleeding. Let's get to Gramps's car. He has some towels you can place over the wound.” Jake looked at her aunt. “Are you okay? I didn't see bleeding.”

She nodded.

As flames engulfed the cabin, they hurried to the SUV, the sound of sirens filling the air.

A police car came down the long drive followed by the fire department. There wasn't anything that could be done for the cabin. With only a light breeze and a snow-covered ground, hopefully the blaze wouldn't spread.

“See? Now we don't have to go to town.” Rachel took the clean towel from Jake and pressed it into her side.

“You're still going to see Doc.” Jake started the car and turned the heater on, then he climbed from the vehicle.

“Wait,” Aunt Linda said. “Take this.” She shed his coat and tossed it toward him.

He caught it and walked toward Chief Quay as he got out of his cruiser.

Rachel watched the conversation between them with Jake gesturing toward the house, anger creasing his forehead as he spoke to the chief.

“Jake saved us,” her aunt murmured.

“I know.” Since he'd come home, she felt as though she'd been on a tilt-a-whirl, spinning out of control. And yet, seeing him again renewed feelings she'd kept buried—conflicting emotions from anger at him leaving to happiness he was here.

As Jake returned to the SUV, the firefighters hooked up their equipment. “Let's go. Randall will come out to see you later after you've seen Doc.”

“How did he find out about the fire since we couldn't call it in?”

“Gramps saw the black smoke when he returned from plowing the Andersons' drive down the road. He went home, placed the call and then was going to come over. Randall told him that he just received a report from another neighbor and he would take care of it.” Jake backed up, then made a turn and headed for the highway.

* * *

Jake opened Linda's door to greet his grandfather and Mitch. “Thanks for bringing him over. Randall should be here soon to interview Rachel and Linda.”

“The cabin must have gone up quickly.” Gramps entered while Jake petted Mitch.

“Probably an accelerant was used. One of the firefighters has experience in determining arson.”

“That makes sense.” Gramps sat on the couch. “Where are Linda and Rachel?”

“Changing. Doc had to sew up Rachel's right side where some glass sliced her good. The rest of her cuts were small. Neither of them have smoke inhalation problems.” As Jake rattled off the list of injuries, a part of him was back at the cabin, frantically trying to get Rachel free. If something had happened to her, he would have blamed himself. He'd rescued many people while working for the Northern Frontier Search and Rescue Organization and the police, so he should be able to save someone he really cared about.