A Christmas to Die For (7 page)

In the downstairs hall he paused briefly. He should call the police before heading out, should tell Rachel what was going on before she heard him and thought someone was breaking in.

He tried the library door, found it unlocked, and hurried through to the separate staircase that must lead to the family bedrooms. If she was still awake—

A light shone down from an upstairs hall.

"Rachel?"

Soft footsteps, and she appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching a cell phone in one hand. At least she was still dressed, so he hadn't gotten her out of bed.

"What's wrong?" Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

"Someone's in my grandfather's house. I could see the light from my window."

She didn't try to argue about it, but hurried down the steps, dialing the phone as she did. "I'll call the police."

"Good. I'm going down there."

She grabbed his arm. "Wait. You don't know what you might be rushing into."

"That's what I'm going to find out." He shook off her hand. "Just tell the cops I'm there, so they don't think I'm the burglar."

He strode toward the back door, hearing her speaking, presumably to the 911 operator, as he let the door close behind him.

He jogged toward the car, a chill wind speeding his steps. This could be nothing more than some teenage vandals.

And if it was someone else?

Well then, he'd know he'd been wrong. He'd know there was something to investigate after all.

He took off down the lane, gravel spurting under his tires. A clump of bushes came rushing at him as the lane turned, and he forced himself to ease off the gas. Wouldn't do any good for him to smash into a tree.

Rachel's accident slid into his mind, displacing his concentration on the prowler. An image of her, standing in the road, whirling, face white, to stare in horror at the oncoming car—

He shook his head, taking a firm control on both thoughts and reactions. Get to the farm in one piece. Find out what was happening. Hope the cops got there in time to back him up.

The car rounded the final bend, and the dilapidated gateposts came into view. He stepped on the brake, took the turn cautiously and then snapped off his headlights. He couldn't have done it earlier, not without smashing up, but he could probably get up the lane without lights. He didn't want to alert the prowlers to his presence too soon. They could hear the motor, of course, but they might attribute that to a car going past on the lane. Headlights glaring at them would be a dead giveaway.

If they were still there. He frowned, squinting in the dim light of a waning moon. He could make out the rectangular bulk of the house, gray in the faint light, and the darker bulk behind it that was the barn. No sign of a vehicle—no glimmer of metal to give it away. It looked as if he was too late.

He drew to a stop next to the porch, cut the motor, opened the door and listened. No sound broke the night silence, not even a bird. He got out, moving cautiously, alert for any sign of the intruder.

Still nothing. He walked toward the steps. Stupid, to have come without a decent torch. He had only the small penlight on his keychain to show him the broken stair. He stepped over it, mounting the porch, the wooden planks creaking beneath his feet.

He focused the thin stream of light on the door, senses alert. It seemed to be as securely closed as it had been on his first visit. A flick of the light showed him boards secure over the windows.

The urgency that had driven him this far ebbed, leaving him feeling cold and maybe a little foolish. Could the light he'd seen have been some sort of reflection? He wouldn't think so.

Well, assuming someone had been here, they were gone now. Maybe he could at least figure out how they'd gotten in.

He bent, aiming the feeble light at the lock. Had those scratches—

A board creaked behind him. Muscles tightening, he started to swing around. A shadowy glimpse of a dark figure, an upraised arm, and then something crashed into his head and the floor came up to meet him.

G
iven the small size of the township police force, Rachel knew her call would go straight through to whoever was on duty. Thankfulness swept her at the sound of Chief Burkhalter's competent voice.

It took only seconds to explain, but even so she was aware of how quickly Tyler would reach the farm. And put himself in danger.

"My guest, Tyler Dunn, the one who saw the lights—"

"Owns the farm. Right, I know."

Of course he would. Zachary Burkhalter made it his business to know what went on in the township.

"He's gone down there. Don't—"

"I'm not going to shoot him, Ms. Hampton, but he's an idiot. I'll be there in a few minutes."

And she could hear the wail of the siren now, through the air as well as the telephone. She could also hear Grams coming out of her bedroom.

"I could go down—" Rachel began, with some incoherent thought of identifying Tyler to the chief.

"No." The snapped word left no doubt in her mind. "I'll call you back on this line when we've cleared the place. Then you can come pick up your straying guest, but not until then."

She had no choice but to disconnect. The change in tone of the siren's wail as it turned down Crossings Road was reassuring. They'd be there soon. Tyler would be all right.

Grams reached her. "What is it, Rachel? What's happening?"

Rachel put her arm around Grams, as much for her comfort as her grandmother's. "Tyler saw a light moving around in the farmhouse. He insisted on going down there by himself, but the police are on their way."

Grams shook her head. "Foolish, but I suppose he wouldn't be one to sit back when there's trouble."

No, he probably wouldn't. It didn't take a long acquaintance with Tyler to know that much about him.

"I still wish he hadn't. If he runs right into whoever's there—"

"I'm sure he'll be sensible about it." Grams's voice was matter-of-fact. "The police are probably there by now."

She'd thought she'd have to comfort her grandmother, but it seemed to be working the other way around. Grams patted her shoulder.

"I'll start some hot chocolate. He'll be chilled to the bone, I shouldn't wonder, running out on a cold night like this."

She followed Grams to the kitchen, phone still in her hand, watching as her grandmother paused for a moment, head bowed.

Dear Lord, I should be turning to You, too, instead of letting worry eat at me. Please, be with Tyler and protect him from harm.

Even as she finished the prayer, the telephone rang. Exchanging glances with Grams, she answered.

"You can come on down here now, if you want." The chief sounded exasperated, which probably meant they hadn't been in time to catch anyone. "Maybe help Mr. Dunn figure out what's missing."

Questions hovered on her tongue, but better to wait until she saw what was going on. "I'll be right there."

It took a moment to reassure Grams that she'd be perfectly safe, another to grab her jacket and shove Barney back from the door, and she ran out and slid into the car, shivering a little.

She shot out the drive and turned onto Crossings Road with only a slight qualm as she passed the place where she'd been hit.

Why? The question beat in her brain as she drove down the road as quickly as the rough surface would allow. If someone was in the house, why? More specifically, why now? It had stood empty all these years and been broken into more than once. Why would someone break in now, when surely most people knew that the new owner was here?

Lots of questions. No answers.

She turned into the rutted lane that led to the farmhouse, slowing of necessity. The police car, its roof light still rotating, sat next to Tyler's car. Its headlights showed her Chief Burkhalter's tall figure, standing next to the porch.

Tyler sat on the edge of the porch, head bent, one hand massaging the back of his neck.

She pulled to a stop and slid out, hurrying toward them. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Tyler frowned at the chief. "There was no need for him to call you."

"There was every need." She hoped her tone was brisk enough to disguise the wobble in her tummy. "You're hurt. Let me see."

Ignoring his protests, she ran her hand through the thick hair, feeling the lump gingerly.

He winced. "Are you a nurse as well as a chef?"

"No, but I know enough to be sure you should have some ice on that."

"I offered to take him to the E.R. or call paramedics," the chief said. "He turned me down."

"I don't need a doctor. I've had harder knocks than that on the football field. And the ice can wait until we've finished here."

"Just go over it once more for me," Burkhalter said, apparently accepting him at his word. "You saw the lights from your window at the inn, you said."

Tyler started to nod, then seemed to think better of it. "The side window of my room looks out over Crossings Road. I can see the house—or at least, the upper floor of it. I spotted what looked like a flashlight moving around on the second floor."

"So you decided to investigate for yourself." Burkhalter sounded resigned, as if he'd taken Tyler's measure already.

"I figured I could get here faster than you could."

She wanted to tell Tyler how foolish that had been, but his aching head was probably doing that well enough. Besides, she had no standing—they were nothing more than acquaintances. The reminder gave her a sense of surprise. She'd begun to feel as if she'd known him for years.

"What did you see when you got here?"

"No vehicle, so I thought maybe they'd gone already. My mistake." Tyler grimaced. "I went to look at the front door, to see if it had been broken into, and while I was bending over, somebody hit me from behind."

"You didn't get a look, I suppose."

"Only at the floorboards." Tyler massaged the back of his neck again. "I heard the car come round the house then. They must have parked it in the back. The guy who slugged me jumped in, and off they went. I managed to turn my head at some point, but all I could see were red taillights disappearing down the lane."

"Vehicle was parked by the kitchen door." The patrolman who joined them gave Rachel a shy smile. "Looks like a big SUV, maybe, by the size of the tires. They broke in the back."

"I should have gone around the house first." Tyler sounded annoyed with himself. "I didn't think."

"Wait for us next time," the chief said. "Not that I expect there to be a next time. If these were the same thieves who have broken into other empty houses, they won't be careless enough to come back again, now that they know someone's watching."

"This has happened before?" Tyler's gaze sharpened. "What are they after?"

"Anything they find of value. Old-timers in country places often don't think much of banks, so sometimes it's been strong boxes broken open. Other times silver or antiques."

Burkhalter's lean face tightened. At a guess, he didn't like the fact that someone had been getting away with burglaries in his territory. Nobody blamed him, surely. The township was far-flung, the police force spread too thin.

"If there's nothing else Mr. Dunn can tell you, maybe he ought to get in out of the cold." She was shivering a little, whether from the cold or the tension, and Tyler had rushed out in just a shirt and sweater.

"If you wouldn't mind taking a look around inside first, I'd appreciate it. See if anything's missing."

Tyler stood, holding on to the porch post for a moment. "Ms. Hampton and I were here yesterday, but we didn't go upstairs. And Philip Longstreet stopped while we were here, wanting to have a look around. I told him I'd let him know if I decided to sell anything."

Philip wouldn't be delighted to have his name brought up in the middle of a police investigation. Still, there was no reason for Tyler to hold the information back.

The chief's expression didn't betray whether that interested him or not. He ushered them inside and swung his light around, letting them see the contents of the living room.

In the daylight the place had looked bad enough. In the cold and dark it was desolate, but as far as she could tell, nothing had been moved.

"I think this is pretty much the way it was. Tyler?"

He seemed tenser inside the house than he had sitting on the porch. He gave a short nod. "I don't think they were in this room."

They walked through the dining room, then into the kitchen. Everything seemed untouched, other than the fact that the kitchen door had been broken in.

The chief's strong flashlight beam touched the stairway that opened into the kitchen. "Let's have a look upstairs."

"I haven't been up there yet," Tyler warned. "I can't say I know everything that should be there."

"Anything you remember could help." The chief was polite but determined.

Tyler nodded and started up the stairs. She couldn't assist in the least, since she'd never been in that part of the house, but she didn't like the idea of staying downstairs alone. She followed them, watching her footing on the creaking stairs.

The flight of steps led into a small, square hallway with bedrooms leading off it. Tyler stopped, gripping the railing. "There used to be a slant-top desk there, I remember."

"Not recently." The chief swung his flashlight over the thick layer of dust that lay, undisturbed, where Tyler indicated.

They peered into one bedroom after another. There was more furniture up here, sturdy country pieces, most of it, some probably of interest to collectors. Tyler really should have it properly valued.

The thieves had evidently started in the master bedroom, where the dresser drawers gaped open and empty. A small marble-topped stand had been pulled away from the faded wallpaper, and a basin and ewer set lay smashed on the floor.

Rachel bent, touching a piece gingerly. "Too bad they broke this. There's been quite a demand recently for sets of this vintage."

"Maybe they weren't educated thieves," Tyler said.

"Or they just don't know about china."

Tyler stepped carefully over the pieces. "Seems like a stupid place for them to hit. Obviously there's no money or small valuables left. My impression is that the rooms used to be fairly crowded with furniture, but that's hardly going to let you trace anything."