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Nate went to the kitchen, retrieved the Crock-Pot, and set it on the black laminate counter. He removed the ceramic cooking pot from the metal housing and—

“Damn.” Nothing. Well, ain’t that a kick in the ass. He’d been hoping to find a hidden clue, or cryptic note, or anything else that would have motivated the intruders to trash two perfectly good homes.

Disappointed, he reassembled the Crock-Pot and returned it to its spot in the pantry. Before he closed the door, he took a few moments to inspect the shelves. A number of the boxes had been opened and their contents dumped all over the floor, most likely to see whether there was something stashed inside. Thankfully, most of it was dry goods, so it wouldn’t be too much of a pain in the ass to sweep up. Still, it would cost a bit of money to replace it all, and he got the distinct impression that Dorcas’s finances were precarious at best.

Fighting frustration, he tried to put himself in Rita’s shoes. If she hid something of value, she would have chosen a place she considered safe, where she didn’t think it would be disturbed or accidentally stumbled upon. That eliminated any items that Dorcas or her roommate used on a regular basis.

“Is there anything you buy just for your sister?” he asked. “A food that she likes but you don’t?”

Dorcas’s eyebrows knitted together. “No, not that I can—oh, wait. There’s a jar of mayonnaise in the fridge.”

He gave her a look. “You don’t like mayo?”

“No, it’s gross.”

“Amen to that,” Austin said from where he stood in the living room, a torn couch cushion in his hand.

“Does Shailene eat it?” Nate asked.

“I don’t think so.”

It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. Nate opened the fridge and took out the jar of mayonnaise from the bottom shelf on the door. It was small, which didn’t surprise him, considering Rita was the only one who ate it. “This expired four months ago.”

“Did it? I had no idea.”

He let out a low laugh. Of course she wouldn’t know. Just looking at the jar had her upper lip peeling back from her teeth. “You got one of those strainer things anywhere?”

“You mean a colander?”

“If that’s what it is.”

Shaking her head, she opened one of the bottom cabinets and retrieved a plastic strainer—colander—whatever the fuck it was called—and handed it to him. “What do you need it for?”

“Just another hunch. I owe your sister a jar of mayo. At least it won’t be expired.”

He put the colander in the sink, unscrewed the jar, and was nearly bowled over by the putrid stench of spoiled mayo. Okay, now he could totally see why she’d find it disgusting. Holding his breath, he dumped the contents into the colander. Then he ran the faucet over the clumps of mayo until—

“Bingo.”

The silver key was sealed in a small plastic bag. Nate stared down at it, elated that his hunch had actually paid off.

Rising up on her toes, Dorcas peered over his shoulder. “See? Mayonnaise is vile enough to be used as a theft deterrent.”

He snorted. It pleased him to see her cracking jokes after everything that happened.

Austin crossed to the kitchen, peered down at the key, and clapped a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Good job. Now we just have to figure out what it goes to.”

“I don’t recall seeing anything in Rita’s house with a lock on it.” Still, it wouldn’t hurt to go back and check. Perhaps they’d missed it in the wreckage, or the intruders had found it and taken it with them. Nate looked to Dorcas. “Do you know if your sister had a storage locker or a safe deposit box?”

She shook her head. “Rita never mentioned anything like that.”

Oh well. It was worth a shot. “Keep it in the back of your mind. Maybe you’ll remember something that didn’t seem like much at the time.”