Standoff At Christmas. Margaret Daley

took in the hard edge to Jake’s expression and the reserve he didn’t have as a teen. She missed who he’d been. “But you aren’t. From what he’s told me, you’re very serious and focused.”

      “Being a police officer in a large town colors your perception. Sadly, I have covered murders. I’d forgotten the charm of Port Aurora and the lack of what I call real crime.”

      “You should come home more often.” This exchange brought memories of how they were as teenagers. They used to tell each other everything—until Celeste. She changed Jake. He became closed, and in the end he left because she married Brad Howard. That hurt her more than she cared to acknowledge.

      “We’ll see.”

      “Have you seen Celeste yet?”

      His shoulders tensed. “I’ve only been here less than a day.”

      “But you were in town for hours, and it’s a small place. She and Brad don’t live far from the main street.”

      “I’ve seen that big house overlooking the harbor.”

      “You mean the audacious home looming over the town,” she said with a forced chuckle.

      Jake pushed to his feet. “I can smell the dinner, and I’m starving. Let’s eat.” He held out his hand to her.

      Celeste was still a sore subject with him. That broke her heart. Rachel wanted him to be happy and move on from Celeste. Rachel placed her hand in his, and he tugged her up. For a few seconds they were only inches apart, his spicy scent—or maybe the Christmas tree nearby—teased her senses and blended with the aromas of the bread and beef stew.

      At least he loved someone once. You don’t even want to take that chance.

      * * *

      The next morning, after Gramps plowed the long drive from the road to the cluster of houses, Jake headed for town to talk with the police chief, a man he’d worked with for over a year, before he moved away. Randall had taught him a lot, but his real police training came when he went to Anchorage.

      Jake parked in front of the police station, a small building, nothing like where he worked. When he entered, he saw the chief coming out of his office and putting a paper down in front of the dispatcher/secretary. From what he understood, only seven officers worked for the department besides Randall, three more than when he had been an officer on this force. That wasn’t too bad in the winter months when the year-round population was a little over four thousand, but in the warmer months there was an influx of tourists, mostly hunters and fishermen.

      Randall came toward Jake and shook his hand. “I’m sure glad you could help out yesterday. I have one officer on vacation, and with the storm yesterday, there are always more wrecks.”

      “While I’m here, I’d be glad to help out, if needed. I wanted to know what the cause of Betty’s death was.”

      “The verdict was she passed out and froze to death. It was estimated by body temperature she was outside close to three hours.”

      “Are you calling it a murder?”

      The chief nodded. “She wouldn’t have been outside with a head wound if someone hadn’t intruded in her house and hit her.”

      “Did you find the weapon?”

      “Yes, a can of soup. I think the attacker left her in the pantry where she had probably been hiding and continued his search. She must have awakened and fled outside.”

      “How many people do you think it is?”

      “We have two different sets of footprints in the house that weren’t Betty’s.” Randall half leaned, half sat on his dispatcher’s desk as Officers Bates and Clark walked from the back of the station, talking.

      “Any latent prints that you could match?”

      Randall signaled for Bates to join them. “Yes, one, but the print isn’t in our system. Did Linda know what might have been taken from Betty’s? If someone wanted to steal, I could think of many better off than her.”

      “No, but Linda and Rachel are going to start cleaning up since I checked with one of your officers this morning. He said you’re through with the crime scene.”

      Randall glanced toward Bates. “We were there until late, processing the scene. Finished about ten o’clock. If Linda or Rachel find anything missing, please let me know.”

      Jake shifted slightly toward the young officer. “I’ll leave you to talk business. I’m going by the general store for some cleaning supplies they might need at Betty’s house, then to Port Aurora’s Community Church. Linda couldn’t get hold of the pastor this morning, so she wanted me to tell him Betty only wanted a small memorial service at church.”

      “That sounds like Betty, but it won’t be small. I don’t see how the church will be big enough for the service. She worked at the processing center at the fishery and was a moving force at church. I figure at least half the town will want to come.” Randall reached behind him for a piece of paper and handed it to Bates. “Red Cunningham had his cell phone stolen. Check it out.”

      “Yes, sir. On it.”

      “Was Betty’s cell on her?” Jake asked.

      “From what I understand, she only had a landline at her house.” Randall straightened. “I can’t imagine not having a cell.”

      “Me, either. It’s hard enough that it doesn’t always work here.” They nodded goodbye, and Jake left the police station and drove the half a mile to the general store, which was close to the harbor on the main street.

      He decided to grab a cup of coffee, because no one made it as good as Marge, then get the cleaning supplies. As he entered the store, his gaze almost immediately went to Brad and Celeste sitting at a table talking. Neither saw him, and he hoped it stayed that way.

      He stood in line a couple of people behind Sean O’Hara. They had been in the same class in high school. If he had been spending time with Rachel growing up, usually Sean was with him. Sean placed his order, then turned away from the counter.

      “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.