Page 114 of Deadly Revenge

Jenna flung open the pantry door and stared at the neat rows of canned goods, the boxes of cereal lined up together. A chill raced up her spine. Jenna turned to Max. “You’ve seen my cabinets—they look nothing like this!”

He shook his head. “You’ve always had the cereal and the coffee on the counter, waiting for me.”

That’s right, she had.

“What if Sebastian found the photos.” Jenna whirled around. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll check the windows.” Max followed her down the hall.

“I’ll check the ones in this bedroom.” Jenna quickly knelt beside the false receptacle. The tape was still intact.

The pounding in her chest eased only slightly, and she examined the windows. Both locked down tight. She walked back to the kitchen.

Max returned a few minutes later. “All the windows I checked are locked, and I’m assuming the ones in the bedroom—”

“They’re locked.”

It didn’t make sense. Everything was locked up tight—how had someone gotten in and lined up the medicine in her cabinet and rearranged what was in her pantry?

“Did you examine the back door?”

“No.”

Max walked to the back door and tried to open it. “If someone was here, how did they get in?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Does anyone else have a key?”

“Granna does.” Hope fluttered in her chest. “She’d do something like this—but not today, not with Dad missing.”

“Call and make sure—she may have needed something to take her mind off what’s happened.”

That had to be the answer. Jenna jerked her phone out and punched in her grandmother’s number. “Hey, Granna,” she said when her grandmother answered. “Have you been to my house today?”

“No, dear. I haven’t left the house since you were here. Why do you ask?”

Jenna gripped the phone. “No reason ... I just thought maybe you’d straightened up my cabinets.”

“No, I’ve been right here, baking a pound cake for the meal after the funeral. I just took it from the oven.”

Jenna braced herself with the table. “Thanks, Granna. If I have any news about Dad, I’ll call you. Otherwise, we’ll see you at the funeral.” She disconnected. “I guess you could tell that Granna hasn’t been here.”

“I’ll dust for prints.”

Max didn’t believe anyone had been here. Oh, he said the right words, all right. It was his tone that said he was humoring her.

“No need,” she said, brushing him off. “Whoever did this would’ve worn gloves. Are you ready to go to the next place?”

“Aren’t you going to take something for your headache?”

“I forgot.”

Her hand froze as she reached for the bottle of ibuprofen. He’d handled her bottles. What if he’d switched the pills out with heroin—no, the ibuprofen were caplets. They would be safe.

She wasn’t letting whoever did this control her. She grabbed the bottle, uncapped it, and swallowed two pills with a gulp of water. “I’m ready.”

Max followed her out the front door and waited while she placed a new piece of tape at the top. When they reached her SUV, he cleared his throat. “We need to talk about the elephant in the room.”

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