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.
Jake 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?”
