Free Devil's Night by Todd Ritter

body hadn’t been dumped in that crawl space, then Dutch Jansen’s boys would have seen her when they entered the museum.”
    “Technically, it wasn’t murder,” Wallace said.
    “Close enough. Whoever set that fire killed her, so it’s murder in my book. Especially after she was tossed into that hole in the floor.”
    “That’s another thing. It’s looking less likely that she was dumped there. I found fresh scrapes on both of her knees. There were similar ones on the inside of her forearms, not to mention a splinter near her elbow.”
    Another shock that Kat didn’t see coming. “You’re saying she crawled there by herself?”
    Wallace nodded gravely. “If she had been dragged, the scrapes would have been slightly above her knees. The ones I found were below the knees, suggesting that her legs had been bent.”
    Kat processed the information, unsure what to make of it. If Constance had crawled across the floor at some point during the night, it could have been before the blow to the head—while trying to fight off her attacker, for instance. But the scrapes on her forearms made that seem less likely. A woman scurrying away from an attack would be on her hands and knees. The wounds on her arms suggested she pulled herself across the floor.
    Kat tried to form a timeline of events, based on what little she knew. According to Emma Pulsifer, Constance was in the museum a little before eight. She might have left at some point during the night, but was back there after midnight. Maybe she had arranged to meet the person who struck her over the head. Or maybe the person’s presence came as a complete surprise. Either way, Constance was left for dead on the floor as her attacker started the fire on the other side of the gallery.
    Once the fire was burning and the assailant was gone, Constance headed to the crawl space. When Kat had entered the museum, the trapdoor in the floor had been closed. If Constance did climb into the crawl space herself, then she also closed the door after her. A tough task for an elderly woman with a devastating head wound. But it was possible. Anything was possible when you were fighting for your life. Still, that theory created one big question.
    “Why would she go down there?”
    “Maybe she thought it could be a refuge from the fire,” Wallace said.
    Again, it was possible but unlikely. “Why not just keep going down the hall? There’s a back door there. That would have taken just as long as entering a hole in the floor.”
    “She probably wasn’t thinking straight,” Wallace said. “Remember, she was struck in the head very hard. It likely would have killed her if the smoke hadn’t gotten to her first.”
    Kat thought back to the way she had found Constance slumped over the trunk with the bones in it. She had managed to get most of her body over it, almost as if she was trying to protect it.
    “Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing,” Kat said, thinking aloud. “She was hurt real bad. Probably in a lot of pain, not to mention surrounded by fire. Maybe she knew she was going to die and went into that crawl space for a reason.”
    “Which would be?”
    “Trying to save the trunk that was down there. Or if she died, then making sure whoever found her body knew it existed.”
    “But why would she spend the final moments of her life doing that?” Wallace asked.
    “Because Constance knew what was inside it,” Kat said. “Other than the scrapes and the splinter, did you find anything else on her hands or arms? Any residue or dirt?”
    Wallace dipped his fingers into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a cigarette. “I think I’m going to need a smoke for this.”
    “Why?”
    “Because,” he said, lighting up, “I found dirt under Constance’s fingernails. Not the everyday grime we all have, but actual dirt. I’m talking fresh soil. She had definitely been doing some digging recently.”
    Kat turned to Wallace, stunned. “Constance is the one who dug up those