Standoff At Christmas

“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.

FOUR (#ulink_ae901d45-6293-5918-955c-f7a81f7f9509)

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?”

“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.”