Page 54

CHAPTER NINE

M ax looked out the window and saw a shadow flit from tree to tree in the white birch grove behind the house. He frowned. Occasionally a villager would come skulking onto the property to steal things. He’d better check it out.

He looked to make sure Molly was still occupied with Gram then went out the front door and slipped around the end of the house. A path led around the gazebo and entered the grove from the side. That would be his best entry point to catch the intruder red-handed.

The garden looked pristine and well-manicured after the groundkeeper pruned the shrubs. He walked along the row of evergreens shaped like barrels. The soft grass underfoot muffled his approach to the trees.

The shade welcomed him as he stepped into the trees. He heard muffled voices coming from the direction of the old milk house. Stepping softly, he trod in that direction. He parted the bushes and peered through. Becca stood talking with Nick.

Nick was standing too close to her for Max’s liking. She seemed not to mind though, as she tipped her head to listen to what his brother was saying. They made a nice couple, though she stood almost eye level with Nick. He wanted to see his brother happy, but he had a feeling Nick needed some sweet, little homebody who thought he hung the moon.

Becca was more likely to tell him to sit in his easy chair while she hung it herself. Max smiled at the thought.

She was nothing like Laura.

The thought came out of nowhere and made him frown. Why would he compare Becca to Laura? The last thing he wanted was to think about another woman in Laura’s place.

He knew how the islanders whispered about him. The arguments they’d witnessed between Laura and him had been fuel to the speculation he’d had something to do with her death.

He pressed closer to hear what his brother was saying. Max was probably going to have to warn Becca off, and he didn’t relish the thought of her fiery response. She didn’t strike him as the type who would take kindly to someone meddling with her love life.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the boating accident?” Nick picked a flower and tucked it into Becca’s hair.

She laughed, and her hand went to her hair. “I’ve just been hearing stories about it.”

Was she talking about Laura’s accident? She had no business poking her nose into his affairs. Max gritted his teeth. It was time he broke up this little tête-à-tête.

“There you are,” he said, thrusting his leg through the brush.

Becca’s face flushed, and Max wondered if it was because she felt self-conscious to be found with Nick or because she was afraid he’d overheard her prying into Laura’s death.

He told himself he didn’t care what Becca thought of him, but the assertion rang hollow.

“If you have something you want to know about my wife’s death, ask me yourself, Becca. You don’t need to go sneaking around asking questions behind my back.”

Becca’s startled gaze met his. “Your—your wife?”

“You idiot,” Nick said. “We weren’t talking about Laura. We were just discussing the boat that exploded a few weeks ago. Not everything revolves around you, you know.”

Max’s rage cooled into a puddle of embarrassment. “I heard you mention an accident, and I thought—,” He broke off, well aware they knew what he thought. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Nick turned to Becca. “My brother is paranoid. The villagers say he killed Laura.”

Becca didn’t gasp, though Max was sure she wanted to.

“I see,” she said quietly.

Why did she always have to look at him with those eyes? Blue as Lake Superior and just as clear. Her eyes said there was no deceit in her soul, and Max knew better. There was some reason she was here on the island, and he intended to find out what it was.

“Did you hear about the boating accident?”

Becca looked away. “Molly’s friend’s mother mentioned it.”

“I suppose she told you about everything that goes on around here too, huh? I get sick of gossip. You’d do well not to listen to it.”

“Why are you so defensive?” Her gaze met his again.

“I’m not. But I didn’t hire you to indulge in gossip and pry into the affairs of this household.”

“She wasn’t prying. We were just talking,” Nick protested.

“Oh, so you brought up the accident?”

His brother’s gaze fell away, and Max knew Nick was just standing up for Becca. She had brought up the accident. What was her purpose? She was way too inquisitive, and he wanted to understand the reasons behind her prying. But looking at her set face, he knew it was a lost cause. At least today.

“I’ll leave you two to your gossip.” He turned and strode back through the brush. Let Nick look into her doe eyes and get sucked into her questions. She had an agenda, and Max was determined to discover what it might be. He had a private investigator friend in Houghton. He’d ask him to look into Becca’s background.

Becca let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think Max likes me very much.”

“Max doesn’t like much of anyone these days. Himself least of all.”

“Why do you say that? Does he blame himself for his wife’s death? He seemed defensive about that.”

Nick nodded. “Defensive, that’s a good word. He was navigating the boat, and when it exploded, he blamed himself for not having it looked at. Laura had mentioned she smelled gas when she took it out a couple of days before the accident, and Max blew her off.”

“The villagers think it was deliberate?”

“You know how people talk. He could have been killed as well. And Max may be gruff, but he’s harmless.”

“Did they get along? Is that what has fueled the gossip?” Becca felt terrible for prying into the man’s private affairs, but if there was a connection to her parents’ deaths, she had to find out.

“They had their squabbles. I think they’d been talking about divorce, but Max was trying to keep the marriage together for Molly’s sake. He would have been devastated if Molly left the island with her mother.”

Upset enough to make sure that didn’t happen? Becca bit back the words. She didn’t really believe Max could be a murderer. Did she? She examined how she felt about the man and discovered she liked him more than she’d realized. She didn’t want him to be guilty. And a blind spot like that could get her killed.

“We’d better go inside,” Nick said, his fingers touching her elbow. “The Windigo might be prowling tonight.”

He said the words lightly, but a shiver still touched Becca’s spine. The old superstitions were still lodged in her psyche. She allowed Nick to lead her through the brush toward the back of the manor.

She’d thought he might want to linger in the moonlight and steal a kiss or two and was relieved she didn’t have to fend off a pass. Nick was an attractive man, but she found her thoughts straying to her boss more than she liked.

Nick left her in the hall. He needed to check in with Gram, he told her. Becca wandered down the hall to the library. Max was perusing a book with his back to her. She stood watching him a moment then he turned and saw her.

“Done lingering in the moonlight with my brother?” His lip curled as he said the words, and Becca scowled at him.

“At least he’s a gentleman, which is more than I can say about you.”

“He’s much too polite to be anything but gentlemanly. Whereas I on the other hand—,” he broke off and in two strides was at her side. His fingers gripped her shoulders and he pulled her to him. His lips claimed hers, and Becca went rigid at first then softened as the harshness in the kiss changed to tenderness. Her fingers dug into his tweed sweater, and feeling caught in a storm of emotion, she clung to him.

Her eyes were still closed when he released her.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

She felt a shiver run through him, and his gaze was soft. He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking straight up.

“Maybe you’d better go find Nick again,” he said. Still clutching his book, he turned and strode out of the room before Becca could muster enough coherent thought to answer him.

She touched her warm lips. What had brought that on? Could Max have been jealous of his brother? Until that kiss, she would have sworn Max didn’t like her. She’d tried to tell herself she didn’t find him attractive, but the kiss had shown that to be a lie. The sooner she discovered who had murdered her parents, the better. She needed to get out of here before her feelings for him went beyond mere liking and attraction.

She’d have to be on her guard. She didn’t want to get involved with a man who wasn’t a Christian.

She heard a sound and turned to see her grandmother sitting in the dark by the window. Her face burned at what she knew Gram had seen.

“Come here, Becca.” Gram patted her lap.

“I’m too big to sit on your lap now,” Becca said, going to her grandmother’s side.

“You’ll never be too big.” Gram pulled her down onto her ample lap.

Becca felt like a giraffe perching on a child’s stool. Her grandmother was maybe five two while Becca towered at close to six feet tall. Still, the touch of Gram’s hand on her hair brought back all kinds of great memories from her childhood. She nestled against her grandmother as best she could.

“Max is an attractive man,” Gram said. “Tormented men always are.”

“Are you warning me against him?”

“No, he’s a good man, and he has a kind heart when someone bothers to look below the surface. But he’s been through a lot. Don’t hurt him, Becca.”

“You’re worried about me hurting him?” Becca sat up in astonishment. “I’m not the femme fatale type, Gram.”

“You’re lovely, Becca, you just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lovely. No one had ever called her lovely. Striking, Amazon woman, those were terms she’d heard before. Lovely had a nice feel to it. Warmth spread through Becca’s chest.

“I don’t think Max has anything to fear from me. You should be worried about me not him. He could chew me up and spit me clear across the Lake. Besides, I want a Christian.”

“Of course you do. And Max would be a man worth fighting for,” Gram said. “He’s close to coming to Christ. It would have happened before if not for Laura’s death. Now he’s finding it hard to trust, but he’ll get it straightened out.”

Becca blinked. “He seems totally self-sufficient.”

“We used to have great discussions of God. I thought you’d read his books.”

“I have.”

“You’ve never noticed the struggle between good and evil in his stories? And good always wins.”

Becca nodded. “I guess you’re right.” Could she help Max finally turn to God? She’d like to try. She glanced back at her grandmother. “Are sure he didn’t have anything to do with Laura’s death?”

“Oh my, no. Max is much too gentle for that. And he loved Laura, in spite of their problems. She was a willful child, always looking for excitement. I should have insisted they live on the mainland.”

Gram’s face grew pensive. “If the problems were anyone’s fault, it was mine. Newlyweds shouldn’t be living in a house with other people and catering to an old woman. I won’t make that mistake again.” Her faraway gaze cleared, and she smiled. “You’d better go to bed, Becca. You’ve had a busy day.”

Becca was more than ready. She needed some time alone to assimilate the day.

She left her grandmother and went to her room. Moonlight filtered through the filmy curtains. Becca flipped on the light switch. Nothing. She toggled it again, but the light stayed off. Maybe the bulb was blown. She went across the room to the bedside table and clicked the switch on the bedside lamp. It didn’t come on either. Strange. The hall light was on so the house hadn’t lost its power, a common occurrence on the island.

She started for the door to go get Max to see if he could figure out what had happened when she saw something on the bed. It looked like a doll. It was too dark to see clearly, so she picked it up. She carried it to the hall. The light illuminated the face of the doll, and Becca shuddered and dropped it.

A figure came up behind her, and she jumped. Mrs. Jeffries took hold of Becca’s arm, and she winced at the housekeeper’s strong grip.

“Where did you get that?” she demanded, looking down at the figurine on the floor.

“It was on my bed.”

The woman’s normally pale color seemed to bleach out even more. “There’s evil afoot tonight,” she muttered. She scooped the figurine up and stuffed it in her apron pocket.

“Wait, I wanted to show it to Max,” Becca called after her retreating back, though nothing would induce her to touch the thing again.

It had looked to be made out of twigs, and the leering grin on its face had made her heart skip. The teeth in the thing’s mouth were pointed and nasty-looking. Mrs. Jeffries had used the word evil, and Becca thought it an appropriate word for how the figurine made her feel.

She told herself not to be silly. God was her protector, and there was no power in a fetish like the figurine. All the same, she was glad she didn’t have to look at it any longer.

“What’s the commotion?” Max came out of his room. Still dressed in his jeans and shirt with tweed sweater, he looked calm.

His solid presence made Becca feel safe, and her stomach began to settle. “Someone left a nasty present on my bed,” she told him.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Some kind of fetish. It looked like it was supposed to be a Windigo figurine.” She shivered. “The legends say the Windigo has huge teeth, and this thing’s teeth took up half the head.”

He frowned. “Are you okay?”

Becca forced a smile. She refused to show her fear. “Oh sure. But could you look at my lighting? None of the lights are working.” He followed her to her room and checked it.

“The light bulbs are tight,” he said. “Let me check the breaker box.”

Becca followed him downstairs to the utility room. He swung open the breaker box cover.

“We used to get power outages all the time, but this is the first problem since we put in the new breaker box.” He inspected the labeled breakers. “The one to your room is flipped off,” he said. His frown deepened. “That’s strange. I wonder who’s been in here. We haven’t had any electrical work done that I know of. I’ll ask Moxie about it.”

Becca felt cold suddenly. It had to have been someone in the house. But why? No one knew who she was.

She followed Max out of the utility room and stood by the door while he questioned Mrs. Jeffries in the kitchen. Mrs. Jeffries stood stiffly and gestured with clenched hands as Max questioned her. They spoke in low voices, and Becca couldn’t hear all that was said, but it was obvious from the woman’s stance that she resented Max’s line of questioning.

Max rejoined her. “She says it’s a warning for you to leave the house.”

“You don’t think she put it there, do you?” Mrs. Jeffries had seemed truly upset when she found the figurine, but some people found it easy to hide the truth.

“Why? What could she have against you? For that matter, I don’t understand why anyone would try to warn you away. You’ve only been here a week. That seems hardly long enough to make enemies.” His gaze lingered on her face. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me why you’re really here?”

Becca took a step back and looked away from his penetrating eyes. Those eyes looked like they could read every secret in her soul as easily as he read his computer. “I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.

“I think you do. I didn’t have an ad out for an assistant. You called me out of the blue. Why would you want to come here? Your explanation didn’t ring true then, and it sure doesn’t now either. I think there’s a reason you’re hiding out here. A man? Someone after you?”

Relief flooded Becca. “I’m not hiding out from some man. I told you when I called that a friend had told me you could use an assistant.”

“That’s lame, Becca. Really lame. I’m not sure why I didn’t question it more when you fed me that line. But I’m questioning it now. What friend? I want to know the truth.”

What did she tell him?” Becca thought frantically. She didn’t want to lie. Not telling her real last name was bad enough. She took a deep breath and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I used to come here for the summers. I’d always admired this old house. I wondered what it would be like to get a chance to live here.”

Had his face softened just a fraction? She studied the rigid line of his jaw. Maybe not. He still looked mad enough to spit.

“I used to play with Laura,” she said.

His mouth sagged. “What? You knew Laura?”

Too late she realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“So you are investigating her death, prying and digging into things you have no business sticking your nose in.”

“No, no, I’m not interested in Laura’s death. I—I didn’t mean that,” she stammered.

“I want you to pack up your things and leave on the ferry tomorrow,” he said firmly.

“No!” Molly hurtled into the room and threw herself onto Becca’s legs. “I like her, Daddy. You can’t send her away.”

Becca knelt beside Molly. “Don’t worry, Molly. I’m not going anywhere.” She sighed. “You’d better get to bed. I need to talk to your daddy.”