Page 52

CHAPTER SEVEN

B ecca tossed and turned all night. She awoke in a tangle of sweaty sheets with a dim sunrise casting shadows in the room. Her grandmother was coming home today. She felt hollow inside at the thought. God would have to work this one out. She couldn’t do anything about it on her own.

She’d asked as many questions as she’d dared over the week she’d been here, but was no closer to discovering her parents’ killer than the day she arrived. Dinner on Friday with Nick had gotten postponed, so she’d found out nothing there.

The aroma of bacon and hash browns drifted up the stairs. Her tummy rumbled. Tossing back the covers, she decided she wouldn’t worry about what the day would bring. Though she was no closer to solving the murder, she was here. Her grandmother wouldn’t send her away. While it might be more dangerous if everyone knew who she was, she could still poke around.

Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton top, she went on sneakered feet down the stairs to the dining room. Max was the only one in the room when she stepped through the doorway. Her gaze collided with his, and she thought she saw a flare of some kind of emotion before he shut it off. Gladness, attraction? She wasn’t sure what it had been.

“You look rested,” he observed. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. Gram is supposed to arrive around one so we’ll try to cram a lot in this morning.”

Mrs. Jeffries came into the room before Becca could do more than nod. Carrying a plate of bacon and bowls of scrambled eggs and hash browns, she didn’t look at either of them.

“Something wrong, Mrs. Jeffries?” Becca asked when she saw the housekeeper’s tight mouth.

She shook her head without looking at them. As soon as she left the room, Max sighed.

“It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I tossed Robert out this morning. I found him going through Gram’s desk.”

She winced. “Any idea what he was after?”

“I’m not sure I want to know. He’s always looking for a way to make a score.”

“What did he say when you told him to leave?”

Max shrugged. “What could he say? I’m in charge with Gram gone. I escorted him off the premises.”

“Why you and not Tate? He’s her grandson,” she pointed out.

“You can see the way Tate drinks and question it?”

“Good point. Does he mind Gram put you in charge?”

“Yeah, it’s another bone of contention between the two of us. But he just has to deal.”

“I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” Becca moved to the table and sat in her usual place.

“Be honest and you won’t.”

Was there a hidden warning in his words? She glanced at him from under her lashes. Maybe it was guilt that made her feel she had rocks in the pit of her stomach. She hated not being truthful in everything she did. It would all be out soon. Maybe sooner than she wanted. Would Max toss her out on her ear too?

The rest of the family came in for breakfast, and she put her misgivings away.

Shayna sat beside Becca. “How was your day yesterday?” Becca asked her.

“Fine. I found a darling pair of shoes. Red ones. I love red shoes.” Shayna spread her napkin on her lap and took a sip of coffee. “I miss Molly.”

“I’m getting her shortly.” Becca wondered if everyone expected more out of the little girl because of her precocious manner and vocabulary. It was hard to remember she was a five-year-old girl at heart. She likely didn’t have much chance at play since she was surrounded by adults all day long.

“Gram is coming home today too,” Shayna said. “You’ll like her. She’s never too busy to listen. That’s about all there is to do here on this island—talk.”

How well Becca remembered that trait in their grandmother. It was going to be hard not to kneel by Gram’s chair and rest her head on her knees.

The sound of a motorboat drifted through the window. “Now who’s here?” Max got up and looked out the window. “Gram is here already!”

Everyone got up from the table and rushed for the door. Becca felt like she might throw up. How did she fade into the background until she could talk to Gram alone?

She backed away from the table and turned to creep up the steps. Max turned around in the doorway and saw her.

“Hey, Gram will want to meet you,” he called. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you.”

Becca had no choice. She turned and went slowly to join Max. Praying her grandmother didn’t recognize her right off, she tailed behind Max as he went to greet Gram.

Tate had run ahead and was hugging his grandmother as she stood on the dock and waited for the rest of the family to arrive.

Becca’s gaze took in the new wrinkles on Gram’s face, the hair that was completely white now instead of salt-and-pepper, and the added roundness of her short figure. Those blue eyes were just the same though—kind, gentle, but oh-so-discerning.

Becca knew she’d never pull it off.

She hung back, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t notice her. Everyone was laughing and hugging Gram so Becca could watch undetected for now. She saw the grief etched in the wrinkles around Gram’s eyes and the weary droop of her shoulders. She wanted to run forward and bury her face in her grandmother’s bosom and grieve with her.

Her throat felt tight with unshed tears, and Becca struggled to control her expression. It wouldn’t do for Gram to look at her and wonder why some stranger was crying in the front yard.

In a lull left by Tate and Nick hauling Gram’s luggage toward the house, Max looked back and saw Becca. “Oh, Gram, you haven’t met my new research assistant yet.” He held out his hand to Becca. When she stepped forward, he drew her to face Gram. “This is Becca Lynn. She just started a few days ago, but already her help has been invaluable.”

Gram cocked her head to the side in a mannerism Becca now remembered so well. “Welcome to Windigo Manor, my dear.” She took Becca’s hand in her small one and pressed it. “You look familiar to me. Have we met?”

Becca’s tongue felt glued to the top of her mouth. How could she lie to her own grandmother? God wouldn’t like it. She swallowed hard. “I—I--,” she broke off as shouts from the house interrupted her confession.

“Gram, phone call!” Tate yelled from the front porch. “I think it’s Aunt Trudy.”

Aunt Trudy. It had been years since Becca had heard that name too. Gram’s younger sister. Becca suddenly was overcome with nostalgia for the way life used to be when she was a child. Family around her, laughter and joy. Why couldn’t life always be like that?

She had to tell her grandmother the truth when they next met.

The barn smelled of decades of old hay mingled with the faint scent of horse and engine oil. Becca found the Cadillac easily enough under a yellowed tarp in the back. It didn’t look like it had been driven in a while. Surely someone had used it in the three years Laura had been gone?

She tossed the tarp back and got inside. It still smelled new, and she glanced at the odometer. Five thousand miles, hardly broken in.

The fawn leather interior was spotless, but a sense of Laura still lingered in the car, a hint of perfume or something. Becca couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. The sooner she got out of this car, the better she’d like it. It gave her the creeps, as though Laura wouldn’t like it that Becca was driving her car. Stupid, she knew. There were no spirits lingering here. The Bible said it was appointed unto man once to die and after this the judgment. Laura had already stepped into eternity.

The old roads felt unfamiliar as she navigated the winding paths to the small town on the other side of the island. Her parents had often driven her to town on playdates or for groceries at the small general store that supplied the island with staples, but she recognized none of the landmarks. But then it had been fifteen years.

She passed a big barn on the edge of town that said KAROLA FARMS and smiled. That was one building she remembered. Her best friend on the island had lived there. Saija Karola. Becca hadn’t heard from her since the last time she was here. They’d never exchanged addresses, and once she and her family stopped coming to the island, Saija’s memory joined the rest of the things she wasn’t supposed to talk about.

She slowed the car as she entered the town. Or village was more like it. It was more a place to slow down than to stop and browse. Six buildings comprised the village of Turtle Town. The general store, a gas station with pumps that had been installed in the late fifties, a sporting goods store, a restaurant/bar, a bank, and a church. Most of the inhabitants were Ojibwa Indians.

Becca smiled at the sight of the old wooden church. She could come here on Sunday if Max let her borrow the car. Her gaze traveled to the restaurant. Bob’s Eats looked like it hadn’t had a coat of paint in twenty years. The wood siding was gray and weather-beaten, and fly specks marred the plate glass window.

The entire village had a sad, dispirited air like an aging Ojibwa warrior too weak to put on war paint. Driving on through town, Becca stopped just past the incorporation sign at the yellow house on the right.

Its back to Superior’s frigid waves, it looked like someone cared. The yard was neat and well-tended and the paint fresh. Becca parked the car in the driveway and went to the door. As she neared the front steps, she could hear childish shrieks of laughter from inside.

She hoped it was Molly. The child was way too grown up and solemn for her years. Pressing the doorbell, she waited. Finally she heard steps and the door opened.

“Sorry, the baby was crying,” the woman said breathlessly. The baby in her arms waved his tiny fists in the air and squalled louder. The woman plopped him over her shoulder, and he settled down with his thumb in his mouth.

“You do that so well,” Becca said.

“Practice.” The woman’s gaze fastened on Becca’s face. Her eyes widened. “Becca? Becca Baxter?”

The vague familiarity Becca had been feeling coalesced. “Saija?”

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s you.” With her free hand, Saija tugged her inside. “I had no idea you were back on the island! I’m so sorry about your parents.”

Becca glanced toward the girls playing a game on the floor. “Shhh, no one knows who I am,” she whispered.

Saija frowned. “Let’s have some coffee and you can tell me all about it.” She led the way to the kitchen, a cheery room painted yellow with blue pottery.

“Now give,” she said.

Becca told her how she’d come back to the island. It felt good to spill the whole story, especially to Saija who had been a good listener even as a child.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re back,” Saija said. “If you get in trouble out there, you can always come stay with me and see what you can find.”

“I hope I can keep it a secret a while longer. Just don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“My lips are sealed. Now how about some coffee and cookies?”

Food had been Saija’s solution even when they were children, and Becca smiled and took a warm cookie. It was good to be home.

Becca took Molly back to Windigo Manor then spent the entire afternoon on tenterhooks in the office. It was all she could do to keep her notes coherent. The call came just before the dinner hour. Gram wanted to see her.

Standing outside her grandmother’s sitting room, she took a deep breath and rapped on the door.

“Come in, dear.”

Her stomach dropped to her toes at the soft voice. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Her grandmother was in a chair by the window. The sunlight illuminated her soft, white curls. “Come here, Becky,” Gram said firmly. “And tell me why you’re here under false pretences.”

Becca’s shoulders sagged. “When did you know?” she whispered, moving forward on the thick carpet.

“As soon as I rested a bit.” She held out her arms, and her face contorted. Tears made her blue eyes look large and luminous. “Come here so I can hold you.”

Becca dropped to her knees by the chair and fell into her grandmother’s arms. It was like coming home. She smelled the sweet vanilla scent of Gram’s body spray, felt the softness of her arms and body. In her mind, she was a little girl again listening to tales of Brer Rabbit.

She sobbed against her grandmother’s chest while Gram cried in her hair. Finally her grandmother pulled away and put her palms on either side of Becca’s face. “Little Becky, all grown up.” She smoothed the curls back from Becca’s face. “I’ve missed so much of your growing up years. They can never come again.” Tears welled again, but she made an obvious effort to control them.

“I’m sorry, Gram,” Becca whispered.

“You’re here now.” Her grandmother kept possession of Becca’s hand but leaned back in her chair. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I think Mom and Dad were murdered,” Becca said.

Her grandmother’s face went white, and her fingers tightened on Becca’s. “I don’t want to believe that,” she said slowly.

Becca squeezed her eyes shut. “I know,” she choked out. She opened her eyes and stared into her grandmother’s face. “I just know it, Gram. I came to find out who might have wanted to kill them. And why they left here when I was ten and never came to see you again.”

Grams bit her lip, her gaze straying to the window. “It’s hard to talk about.”

“You reconciled when they were here, right?”

“Of course. As soon as I saw your father, we hugged and cried much like you and I are doing now. It was as if the years fell away in a moment.”

“What was the argument about?” Becca persisted.

“Foolishness.” Gram sighed and relinquished Becca’s hand. She stood and went to the window, looking down at the water below. “Your father—Mason—accused your Uncle Charles of making a pass at your mother.”

“Uncle Will?” Becca whispered. “He never married, did he?”

Gram shook her head. “He was difficult, even as a child. Always set on his own rights, and he didn’t care who he had to hurt to get what he wanted.” Gram stopped and turned to look at Becca. “That’s a terrible thing for a mother to have to admit.”

Becca nodded. “What did Uncle Will say?”

Gram sighed and seemed to shrink even more. “It’s not pleasant, Becca.”

“Tell me. I can handle it.”

“Can you?” Gram shook her head. “Very well. He told your father that you were his child.”

His child. Something squeezed in her heart. She’d always noticed how different she looked from Jake and Wynne. Jake used to joke that she’d been left under a rock.

“I don’t believe it,” she whispered, but a part of her did.

Gram nodded. “I believed it at the time. Your parents had been arguing daily, and I’d caught Will and your mother in a rather compromising position in the garden. He was holding Suzanne. I couldn’t tell if it was willing on her part or not.”

“My mother would never be unfaithful!” Becca blurted. She felt horror at the thought she might not be who she thought she was.

Gram nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. I knew it would be upsetting.” She tipped her head to one side and looked at Becca. “I have to say you look very much like Will, Becca. And if it’s true, you would the Will’s only heir. He was my oldest and it would be right and proper for you to inherit the house and grounds.”

Becca flinched. “I don’t want anything from you. Is there more?” She had to hear it all, though she wanted to bolt from the room.

“Things had been tense between Will and Mason. Your Uncle Charles was very close to Mason so there was tension between Will and Charles as well. Will goaded Mason and Charles tackled him. They fought ferociously from the top of the cliff. They both went over the edge. Charles—,” Gram stopped and drew in a shaky breath. “Charles was killed and Will’s body was never found.”

“I would have thought you would have clung to my father even more,” Becca whispered. She hated to sound like she was accusing Gram, but she didn’t understand.

Gram sighed then straightened her shoulders. “I blamed your mother. I told her I never wanted to see her again. Mason said that I’d never see him or you children either then.”

Tears hung on her lashes when she stared in Becca’s face. “I was foolish, so foolish. I forgot about you children, about my love for Mason, everything.” She leaned heavily on the back of the chair.

“Surely Dad knew that. He wouldn’t have accepted that.” Becca’s lips felt numb. Her perfect family wasn’t so perfect after all.

“He tried to call me a few months later, but I was still grieving. I refused to take his call. He never tried again until two months ago when he called and said he was coming whether I wanted to see him or not. Of course I wanted him.”

Becca thought her grandmother looked tired. “Maybe you should sit down,” she said.

“I’m fine, Becca, just fine.” Gram patted her hand. “It’s just hard to admit I was so stupid.”

“How did everyone else feel about Dad and Mom coming back?”

“Tate was upset. He thought he was only coming because he’d heard I had a heart attack and wanted to make sure he was in line to inherit.”

“You had a heart attack?”

Gram nodded. “Just a mild one then, but the kids fretted. I’m fine, of course.”

“That’s what you always say,” Becca said, smiling. She remembered that much about her grandmother. “Do you think Tate would have killed my parents?”

“Oh, goodness no! Tate wouldn’t hurt a flea. He’s much too weak to run the risk of getting caught.” Gram smiled wryly.

Becca wasn’t so sure. She’d seen his anger with Shayna earlier in the day. And he seemed obsessed by money. “What about—Max?” She hated to even ask about her boss. She was beginning to like him more and more, even in the few days she’d been around him.

Gram paled. “He and Mason argued that last night.”

Becca gulped. “What about?” This wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“My lawyer came that day too, to begin drafting a new will.” Grams looked at Becca piteously. “It did no good to tell them all I’d made those plans before your father called. It had nothing to do with their visit.”

“What did they fight about?”

“Max wanted your father to understand Molly was to receive Laura’s share, an equal share with you and your siblings, not something lesser.”

“I’m sure Dad was fine with that.”

“Actually, no he wasn’t. He thought the four of you should share equally. He didn’t want anything for himself, but for the grandchildren to have what I left. The three of you and Tate. With Laura gone, he didn’t think Molly had a share as a great-grandchild.”

“This is terrible to be fighting over your property, Gram,” Becca whispered. “I never would have thought my father would have any part of that.”

Gram smiled sadly. “When it’s your children involved, you do a lot of things that might surprise you. And it’s a lot of money.”

“What about Shayna? She likes to spend money.”

Gram shook her head. “Shayna loves me. She’s not as brittle as she appears at first. She’s a lonely child looking for love and acceptance.”

“I don’t want your money, Gram,” Becca burst out. “Give it all to Molly and Tate. Jake and Wynne won’t care about it either.”

“Jake and Wynne. Where are they?” Gram’s voice held a note of longing.

“Chomping at the bit to see you too. Jake is away on a dig, and Wynne is finishing up a marine project. They plan to come next month for sure.”

“I want to see them,” Gram said. She inhaled deeply. “I can’t believe Max—or any of my family—would have any part in killing your parents.”

“What about Bobby?”

Gram frowned. “Robert? You’ve been listening to Max. He hates poor Robert, but the man is just trying to help his mother have a nest egg.”

“What about Mrs. Jeffries? She gives me the creeps. She always has.”

Gram laughed. “She’s been with me forever, Becca. No, there’s no one. I’m still not convinced they were murdered. Why do you think so?”

“I can’t explain it, but I just know.”

“Accidents happen, Becca. Terrible accidents,” her grandmother said gently. “Sometimes we just have to accept those things as God’s will.”

“I have accepted it, but I don’t want their murderer to go free!” Becca turned her back and went to stare out the window. The cold waters of Lake Superior were gray with an approaching storm. She turned back to face her grandmother.

“If it was an accident, why would someone want to kill me?”

Her grandmother gasped, and she went white. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone tried to roll a boulder on me the first week I was here.”

“That’s not possible.” Her grandmother stood and grabbed both Becca’s arms. “Tell me what you’re saying.”

Becca told her story, leaving out nothing.

“But why?” Her grandmother’s bewilderment shone in her eyes. “No one knows who you are, right?”

“Someone must have figured it out,” Becca said.

“Then you must leave. I can’t lose you too.” Gram shook Becca gently. “Today.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And you have to keep quiet about who I really am. Unless you want me to be in even more danger.”

“No, of course not. But I want you to go, Becca.”

For the first time, Becca saw a frail vulnerability in her grandmother’s eyes. She hated that she had to worry her even more. “I’m staying.”