Standoff At Christmas

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 (#ulink_13ac908d-410b-5c3e-b5d7-d6d2f0aea307)

“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?”