“Doubt it, unless you want scotch or vodka.”
“Gin is really my preferred liquor.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Tempting but risky.” He paused, then reconsidered. “Although alcohol is flammable. Wouldn’t hurt to have the makings for a Molotov cocktail.” He reached for a step stool and grabbed one of the cheap knives from the butcher block.
“Suuuurrre,” she said with a laugh in an unmistakably sarcastic tone. “It’s for a Molotov cocktail.”
He chuckled. “Tell you what, when this is all over, I’ll introduce you to my favorite gin. It’s made in small batches at a distillery in Portland.” He slipped the knife blade between door and frame of the cupboard and popped it free of the cheap lock.
Behind him, Audrey said, “I’m not much for hard alcohol these days.”
He scanned the contents of the cupboard, which, as Audrey had guessed, contained booze and quality cookware—but not Le Creuset. He was a little relieved by that deviation or he’d have to wonder if the woman was psychic. He grabbed vodka and a fifth of whiskey and passed them to her to drop in his pack.
After climbing down, he checked the cupboard above the countertop coffeemaker. “Coffee, filters, and a cone. Score!”
“Is there any decaf?”
“Nope. Why?” They’d had regular coffee the morning after their night together and she hadn’t said anything then. If there was ever a time she might need caffeine, it was now.
“No big deal. I’ve just been off caffeine for the last few weeks.” She shrugged. “I’ll take some of that herbal tea instead.”
He tossed packets of tea into the pack and grabbed two stainless steel travel mugs. “Any other food you want?”
From the pantry, she grabbed a sealed salami log, a box of saltines, a pack of bite-sized rice cakes, and a bar of dark chocolate. After placing those in the pack, she turned to the fridge and let out a squeal of delight as she grabbed a brick of unopened cheddar cheese. “Even better score.”
She returned to the fridge. The remaining contents were mostly condiments along with jars of olives and pickles and other items with a long refrigerated shelf life. She opened a container of cottage cheese and took a sniff. All at once, she slammed the container on the counter next to the sink and retched into the basin.
He’d never seen anyone go from fine to sick like that in such a flash. Earlier, when she’d vomited in the yurt, she hadn’t been anything close to fine. “You have a mold allergy?” he asked after shining the red light into the open container.
“It was the sour smell that got me. I’ve got a sensitive stomach right now, I guess.”
“Understandable given the situation.”
She turned on the water and dunked her face in the stream. She took a long gulp and spit the water out, then dunked her head under again, this time letting the water run over the back of her neck. After raising her head again, she shut off the spray and placed both hands on the lip of the sink, hanging her head over the stainless steel basin. “You don’t know the half of it.” The words were a soft mumble.
He wanted to ask what she meant, but every minute they were inside the house, the danger of being cornered again increased. He’d have to wait to continue this conversation when they were alone in the tent later. “You okay now?”
She nodded.
“’Kay. Let’s go upstairs and see if we can find you better clothes.”
She took a hand towel from the hook next to the sink and patted her face and neck. “I’ve been crossing my fingers for that ever since we decided to rob this place. Danielle Baldwin is about my size.”
Before going up, Xavier grabbed a small crowbar from the garage. A knife probably wouldn’t cut it—no pun intended—if the bedroom closets had solid interior doors.
His assumption proved correct, and he quickly pried open the locked closet in the master bedroom. It was a small walk-in, and they entered and closed the door, allowing Xavier to use the bright white lens on his flashlight to illuminate the fully enclosed space that included built-in shelves loaded with clothing. A tower of drawers filled one short wall.
“I joke about stealing, but I really feel terrible we’re doing this.” She ran her hand over a set of quality long underwear. “I’m going to reimburse the Baldwins for everything we pilfer.”
“Borrow. And I will pay back every dime personally. I’ll fix the doors and locks myself.”
Audrey pulled open a drawer, then slammed it shut. “I can’t take Danielle’s underwear.”
“Audrey, are your bra and underwear soaked?”
“Damp. Not soaked.”