Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls #1)(31)

“That’s going to be hard. I don’t exactly have an inventory.” Grant carried Carson inside.

“Burglary is pretty common when—” McNamara stopped and glanced at Carson. “In a situation like this.”

“I’ll call an alarm system company today.” Scanning the rooms as they walked back to the kitchen, Grant shifted Carson in his arms. Kid had a grip. “I don’t see anything obvious missing.”

“Maybe they heard you coming in, and you scared them off.” McNamara returned the knife to its block on the counter.

“It’s possible. We weren’t exactly quiet,” Grant agreed.

Carson lifted his head and sniffled. “My pictures are gone.”

Grant stared at the refrigerator. “They were probably knocked to the floor. I’ll move the fridge and check later, OK?”

Carson shrugged. “I can draw new ones.” He squirmed, and Grant set him down. The boy knelt on a chair at the kitchen table and pulled out his paper and crayons.

“We’ll find them,” Grant said and then turned back to the cop.

“We’ll have a patrol unit drive by tonight,” McNamara said. “Hopefully, this was just someone who saw the news and was looking for some easy cash, but I’d push to get an alarm system installed ASAP.”

“I’ll call them as soon as we’re through. Do you have any recommendations?”

“I can give you a few names,” McNamara said, turning as noise came through the open door.

Hannah schlepped the baby and diaper bag into the kitchen. Faith was sleeping. Hannah set the car seat in the far corner. AnnaBelle brought McNamara a tennis ball.

The cop patted the dog’s head. “I don’t suppose she’s much of a watchdog.”

“AnnaBelle isn’t much of a threat to anyone, but she barks,” Grant said.

“Better than nothing I suppose. I’ll go check out the damage.” McNamara went into the laundry room.

AnnaBelle moved with the cop. Grant grabbed the dog’s collar. “You better hang with us.”

Holding on to the dog, he looked over Carson’s shoulder. He was drawing another crying man. Was that supposed to be Grant? He hadn’t cried in front of the boy. Maybe Carson was simply expressing that he knew Grant was sad. Should Grant have cried? He scrubbed a hand down the center of his face. He had no clue what he was doing. With a sense that he was missing something, he handed the dog off to his sister and started making a mental list of items that might be missing.

Something was wrong with the entire situation. Something that went beyond his brother and Kate being robbed or car-jacked. Grant scanned the adjoining family room. An e-book reader sat on a shelf, next to the TV and DVD player.

“I’ll be right back.” He tousled Carson’s hair and went upstairs to his room. His bag was unzipped and obviously searched. He pulled out his electronic tablet. In the master bedroom, in addition to the open drawers, a few shirts and a pair of slacks had fallen off their hangers to puddle on the floor of the closet. Someone had swept the clothing from side to side. Grant crossed the wall-to-wall carpet to the dresser. He opened Kate’s jewelry box. She wasn’t much of a bling girl, but Grant recognized the pearl earrings that had belonged to his mother. Lee had given them to Kate the first Christmas after they were married.

Suspicions confirmed, Grant returned downstairs to talk to McNamara. This wasn’t a robbery. The house had been thoroughly searched and valuables ignored. Faith was already crying in the kitchen, and Grant could hear Hannah’s voice. He headed toward the laundry room, intent on talking to the cops, but Carson met him at the bottom of the stairs. How was he going to communicate his discovery with the cops and take care of Carson at the same time? Grant picked up the child.

AnnaBelle barked, drawing Grant’s attention to the living room window. Ellie’s daughter, Julia, was walking up her driveway.

He opened the door and called out, “Julia?”

She stopped and waved at him.

“Would you like to babysit for an hour?” Please say yes.

“Sure!” She smiled, and her step lightened. “Give me five minutes to dump my stuff.”

In ten, the experienced teen was in the kitchen holding Faith in one arm and playing Candy Land with Carson with her free hand. All three seemed content.

The detective came back into the kitchen and Grant took them into the office, where Hannah joined them. Grant shut the door. The space was cramped, but at least Carson couldn’t hear the discussion. The kid was scared enough.

Clearly still juiced from the incident, Hannah paced. Grant, who hadn’t slept in days, took the desk chair. “I don’t think this was a robbery. Too many things were disturbed and not stolen.”

“There are other possibilities.” McNamara looked at Hannah and gestured toward a Windsor chair that was old enough to be an antique. Once painted black, the finish had been worn down to shiny dark wood in the seat and arms. “We’re taking a cast of a footprint in the flower bed. We’re going to try and match it to one we took from the scene of your brother’s murder.”

“No, thank you.” Hannah said, continuing to walk even though she only had room to take two steps in each direction. “You have a footprint?”

McNamara eased into the chair as if he wasn’t certain it would support his weight. It creaked but the structure held. “We found a clear print in the snow where your brother and his wife were killed. That’s a public street. It might not be the killer’s print, but if it matches the one under the window, then I’ll be convinced it’s a solid lead.”