Wildfire by Roxanne Rustand

wavered about calling the sheriff’s office, then started a slow, methodical search of the main floor, flipping on the lights in the dining and living room as she went, then the hallway and bedroom lights.
    Everything was pristine…the bedding neatly draped, the dresser drawers closed. No sign of someone pawing through her possessions in search of jewelry.
    Calmer now, she reached the door to her office. She kept no cash here. All important documents were kept in a safe deposit box at the bank. So what could anyone find? Old receipts and livestock records, mostly. Anything more sensitive was safely filed away or shredded.
    She flipped on the light, drew in a sharp breath, then jerked her cell phone from its case and tried to speed dial with shaking fingers. After two false starts, she managed to make the call, then leaned against the door frame and fought back her rising nausea.
    Desk drawers hung askew. Boxes had been pulled out of the closet and thrown across the room. And covering every flat surface was a blizzard of papers that had once been neatly filed.
    Someone had been here, but he—or she—hadn’t grabbed the heirloom jewelry in her dresser. The twenties laying on her bureau. The Nikon camera that still sat on top of one of the file cabinets.
    So what on earth had they been after?
    Lost in thought, she sorted through the wreckage, feeling violated and angry—
    And then, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

NINE
    T essa stilled at the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall toward her office. She moved farther into the room, easing her right hand to the trigger of her shotgun. “Who’s there?” she called out.
    The steps drew closer. “Only me, Tess.”
    At hearing Josh’s deep voice, an uncomfortable mix of relief and anger rushed through her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And how did you get in?”
    “The back door was open. You need to fix that screen one of these days, by the way.” He appeared at her office door, propped up with one crutch, his face weary. “I saw all the lights, and thought maybe something had happened to Gus, so—Good grief, what happened in here?”
    “I—I don’t know.” She waved a hand at the litter. “While I was gone, someone tore into my files and went through storage boxes. My computer’s external back-up drive is missing. When I tried turning on the computer, it started to sizzle and smoke, so they did something to it, too. Michael ought to be here any minute. When I called, he was just a few miles away.”
    Josh hobbled into the room to survey the damage, his face grim. “I’m just thankful you weren’t here. Any idea what someone could be after?”
    “Not a clue. Maybe money, but they left a couple hundred dollars in silver change in the bowl on the kitchen counter, and they didn’t take an expensive camera.”
    A moment later, a knock sounded at the back door, and Michael walked in to join them, carrying a slender case. With a perfunctory nod at Josh, he gave Tessa a quick hug, then he stepped back, still gently holding her hands.
    “Your sisters are going to worry when they hear about this,” he said. “After that gunshot wound, Janna wanted you to bring in a security system and a pit bull.”
    “When you go home, tell her I’m fine. Do you think this is tied in to those cabin break-ins?”
    He scanned the room. “What’s missing?”
    “Other than an external backup for the computer, nothing that I can see. They walked right by valuables, but made a mess in here.”
    “Then this would be a complete departure from the previous break-ins. Those thieves have gone solely after high tech, big ticket items—plasma screen TVs and the like. Or jewelry.”
    “Maybe this was an attempt at identity theft—or a hunt for bank or investment account numbers,” Josh said.
    “A lot of that happens through Internet and e-mail schemes these days, or with thefts from mailboxes, but this seems a lot more focused and personal.”