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CHAPTER TWELVE

G ram was waiting for Becca when she got home with Max. Her blue eyes were as bright as polished turquoise, and she quivered with excitement as she showed Becca the mishmash of papers and receipts in her desk.

“I know I should have done something about this long ago,” she said. “It will be fun now with you here. You can tell me things I missed while you were growing up—like your first boyfriend, learning to drive, your relationship with Jake and Wynne. I long to see them too.”

“They are planning on coming to the island in a few more days,” Becca said. She needed allies and longed to see her siblings. “I hope to find out more about the boat explosion before they come. It will be difficult to keep their identity secret.”

“We’ll think of something.” The glow in her grandmother’s eyes dimmed. “I still think you’re wrong, Becca. The explosion had to be a terrible accident and not murder.”

“Then why is someone trying to get rid of me?” Becca shook her head. “It’s the only explanation, Gram.”

“I can’t bear to think that any of my family would deliberately cause harm,” she said, dropping into the chair by the window.

“Tell me more about all of them,” Becca prompted as she began to organize the receipts into piles of categories.

“Well, let me see. Let’s start with Tate.” Her smile dimmed further. “I love that boy, but I could shake him. He’s let the demon of alcohol control his life.”

“He talked to me about it. I think he sees it and would like to change. We talked about God.”

Gram’s head came up at that, and she beamed at Becca. “I knew you’d be good for this family, my dear. Keep up your testimony with him.”

“I’m not sure what kind of testimony I’m having. I’m not being honest with anyone, and it’s grating on me.”

“I wondered if the Holy Spirit would let you get by with half truths.”

“You think I should reveal who I am?”

“God always honors truth. I know you feel the danger will be more if your identity is known, but sometimes you just have to do what’s right and trust God with the outcome.”

Heat flooded Becca’s cheeks. “I’m being a coward, aren’t I?” Just like being fearful of praying for her meal that first night. Some witness she was. Still, she shuddered at the thought of everyone’s reaction. “I’ll tell the truth tonight at dinner.”

“That’s up to you, Becca. But I think it would be the right thing to do.” Her grandmother squeezed Becca’s hand then sat back in her chair. “Now about Tate. I think he feels no one takes him seriously, that he has failed in so many arenas he doesn’t deserve any respect. So he drowns his own feelings of worthlessness in the bottle. He has so much potential if he’d just let God use it.”

“What about Shayna? She seems to love him.”

“I think she does, but she’s fed up with his drinking and shiftless life.”

“She seems to bury her dissatisfaction in shopping.”

Gram nodded. “Poor child grew up with only one outfit each year, which she wore to school every day. I think she’s determined never to let anyone pity her again.”

Becca was certainly getting an eye-opening view of her relatives. “And Nick?”

Gram spread her fingers out palm up. “What can I say about Nick? He and Max are close, but I think they both envy the other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Their mother didn’t stay long with Nick’s dad either and took off when Nick was five. She doesn’t so much as call on his birthday, but she recently began contacting Max again. So they both think their mom loved the other one best.”

“Why Max and not Nick?”

Gram frowned. “I think he looks too much like his dad.”

Becca’s sympathies stirred. “Poor Nick.”

Gram gave her a sharp look. “Be careful of wearing your heart on your sleeve. Nick is the type who might take advantage of you.”

“He wants me to go to dinner with him.”

“He might be fun as a friend, but no more. He’s not ready to settle down so be careful.”

“What about Max? Is he good fun?”

“Max is salt of the earth. The things he endured with Laura would make your hair curl. But he stuck by her.”

“He doesn’t like me much.”

“I think he likes you more than he wants to,” was all Gram said.

So many undercurrents. How did she start to unravel everyone’s true motives? Becca liked all the house’s inhabitants. She didn’t think any of them would be capable of murder. Maybe everyone else was right, and she was wrong. As Jake was prone to point out, she wasn’t known for her common sense.

“Why the long face?” Gram asked.

“I was just wondering if I should give up. Maybe you’re right, and it really was an accident.”

“You follow your heart, my dear. You’ll know when you’re satisfied with what you’ve discovered.”

Misty rubbed up against Becca’s leg, and Becca picked her up and cuddled her.

“I’m surprised Max allowed you to bring your cat. He despises them.”

“He about threw me off the porch when I showed up with her,” Becca admitted. “But he was desperate enough for help he finally gave in.”

Gram rubbed the cat’s ears. “Molly has begged for a kitten for over a year.”

“So she said. She’s adopted Misty.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to take the cat when you leave.” Gram’s smile faded. “How long are you planning to stay? You’ve never said.”

“I hope to stay all summer.”

“I’ll miss you when you go. I’ve already lost so much time with you.”

“I’ll be back often for visits now.” Becca squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I think I’ve got these receipts organized. Now all I have to do is put them into the computer.”

“I’ll leave you to your work then. I think I’m ready for a nap.” Gram stood and patted Becca’s head as she went to the door. “I’ll be down for dinner to give you moral support when you tell everyone who you are.”

Becca flinched at the reminder of what faced her tonight. Max’s reaction scared her the most. He’d said he hated falsehood. While she hadn’t actually lied, she had bent the truth all out of recognition.

Gram was right though, the Holy Spirit had been taking her to the woodshed over her lack of total honesty. She had to be obedient and tell the unvarnished truth. She could only pray the fallout wasn’t too extensive.

She worked steadily for two hours then glanced at that clock. It was after four. Just enough time to rest a bit before showering and changing clothes for dinner. She put away the folders and stood, stretching the kinks out of her back. All this paperwork was harder than she’d thought it would be. She wasn’t used to spending such long hours hunched over a desk. Even when she was in school, she often took her books and a blanket and studied on the lawn.

She went to her room. A vague aroma hung in the air. It reminded her of Max’s cologne. Telling herself she was imagining things, she stretched out on the bed and rolled what she knew over in her mind. Gram was certain none of the family could have wanted her parents killed. Who else on the island might be a suspect? A vision of Greg’s handsome face flitted through her mind, but she pushed it away. He hated Max, but that had nothing to do with her parents’ deaths.

What about Robert Jeffries—or even Mrs. Jeffries herself? But though Mrs. Jeffries filled Becca with distaste, there was no evidence to suggest she was more than a faithful servant to the family for twenty years. Becca sighed and sat back up. She might as well take a shower. Her mind was whirling too much to be able to rest.

She showered, redid her makeup then went to the closet for her purse. It wasn’t on the shelf where she left it. Glancing around the room, she saw it on the floor beside the bed. Picking it up slowly, she realized someone had been in her room and had gone through her purse. She quickly checked, but her money was intact. Her driver’s license was not fully back in the slot where it belonged.

Someone knew who she really was. Was it the person who had targeted her? Maybe he or she was merely looking for proof of their suspicions. Or it could be someone else who was suspicious of her. She remembered the scent in the room earlier. Max? She didn’t want to believe he would hurt her, but why else would he be prying through her things?

She ran a brush through her hair then went downstairs. It was time to face the music.

Wondering how he should let Becca know he had discovered who she really was, Max sat at the dining room table and waited for the rest of the family. His anger had cooled, but his determination to thwart Becca’s plans had not. Gram surely knew Becca was her granddaughter. How had Becca convinced Gram to keep silent? Gram was a stickler for the truth.

The rest of the family filed in. Becca was the last to arrive. Dressed in a sky blue dress, she looked good. Too good for Max’s peace of mind.

“Whoa, you look way too pretty to stay home tonight,” Nick said. “How about we go for a ride in the moonlight when dinner is over?”

“We could go pick up Molly,” Becca said. A blush stained her cheeks as everyone looked at her.

“I had something more romantic in mind,” Nick said. “But if you insist.”

“I can get my own daughter,” Max snapped.

Nick held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Don’t bit our heads off.”

Max realized his tone was too harsh. Becca was staring at him, and he wondered if she’d figured out he’d been in her room. He didn’t see how she could, but the look in her blue eyes puzzled him.

“Let’s eat. I’m starved,” Shayna said. Her tone was cold and clipped.

Max figured she didn’t like the attention Becca was getting. Shayna was used to being the center of male admiration.

No one had much to say as they ate. After dinner, Becca looked around. “Has anyone seen Misty?” she asked. “She’s usually underfoot at meal times, and I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

“I haven’t either, now that you mention it,” Max said. “She’s usually rubbing up against my leg and making herself a general nuisance.”

“You know you love her,” Becca said.

Max tried not to notice the dimple in her cheek flashing. “Like a root canal,” Max said. “Cat’s are a nuisance. She sheds hair all over me.”

“Cats seem to instinctively know who dislikes them and go straight for them,” Tate said.

“Flea bag,” Max muttered. “I’ll help you look. Maybe she got out.”

“Oh I hope not,” Becca said. A worried frown crouched between her eyes.

They searched the house, but there was no sign of Misty. Max felt stupid calling for the cat he disliked.

“I’m going to look outside,” Becca said.

“I don’t see how she could have gotten out. There were no open windows or door.”

“Maybe she slipped out with a person.”

“They would have seen her and told you,” Max said.

“Maybe.”

Becca went in one direction, and Max searched the other way. There was no sign of the cat.

Becca felt frantic with anxiety. What could have happened to Misty? The island had wolves and foxes in residence, and Misty would make a tasty morsel for them. She still had her claws, but they wouldn’t be much use against a determined predator.

The sound of Max’s voice calling for Misty faded as Becca pushed deeper into the woods. The light was fading, and she stumbled blindly along an overgrown path. She paused to catch her breath near a moss-covered tree that had been downed a long time. Her breath was loud in her ears, and she slowed her breathing to listen.

A mewl came from behind her. “Misty?” The mewl came again, and she followed the sound. She found her cat in a cage under the tree. She opened the cage and Misty jumped into her arms. She could feel her cat’s heart pounding in her small chest. Who would terrorize her cat this way?

She suddenly realized it was done to lure her out here. She stilled her breathing and listened. Nothing. Then she heard something. A sliding noise, a rustling from behind her. She whirled. “Who’s there?” she called.

Nothing answered but the wind. Prickles rose along her neck and spine. She forced herself to breathe in and out, though she wanted to bolt and run. There was nothing to be afraid of. Yet she was afraid. She couldn’t explain why, but she suddenly knew the sound she heard wasn’t some harmless animal, but something—or someone—focused on her.

The sound came again, and realized it was the footsteps of someone trying to muffle their approach. “Who’s there?” she called again, not really expecting an answer.

She shouldn’t have come into the woods so far by herself. Max would have no idea where she was. A scream gathered in her throat, and she fought it back. Whoever it was wanted to terrorize her, but she had more backbone than to give in to fear.

A dark figure rose from the bushes, but it was too dark to make out features other than a huge headdress of some kind on the person’s head. The figure brandished a wicked looking blade.

As she bolted in the opposite direction, she told herself there was no such thing as a Windigo. Besides, she didn’t see any big teeth. Clutching Misty to her chest, she dashed deeper into the forest and heard thrashing as the attacker followed.

She prayed as she dashed through the trees and tried to figure out how to circle back to the house and still avoid the attacker. Her fear dropped away as she ran and anger took its place. She wasn’t going to let him take her life the way he’d taken her parents’. She was going to bring this person to justice no matter what it took.

The ground dropped out beneath her, and she tumbled down an embankment. She dropped the cat, and Misty yowled in protest then shot away into the dark. “Misty, no!” she called after the animal. She sprang to her feet and raced after her cat.

She found Misty crouched under a shrub then gathered her up and hurried toward the house.

She felt the attack before it came. A whoosh that she tried to jump away from. She almost made it, but the blade slashed through her arm. The darkness was complete, and she could make out only a dark form in the forest. She tucked Misty under one arm then grabbed a stout stick on the ground and turned to face her attacker.

“I’m not going to make it easy for you!” she shouted. She jabbed with her stick, and she heard a throaty laugh. Following the sound, she thrust the stick with all her might and felt, then heard, it find its target.

With an ooph , the figure fell back, and Becca took the opportunity to rush toward the house. She could see a dim glimmer of the outside light through the trees. She put on a last spurt of speed and broke through the tree line into the lawn. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a figure following.

“Help!” she shrieked.

The figure stopped then ran toward her. She dropped the cat then turned to face the attacker again. The stick was wrenched from her hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Max growled. He tossed the stick away.

“Someone tried to stab me.” Becca could feel the warm trickle of blood on her arm, and she began to feel faint. She turned to look for Misty and found her cat hunkered down by the rose bush.

“Get Misty,” she muttered, swaying on her feet. She had never fainted in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. If she passed out, Max would have to leave her where she fell. She was too big to ever pass as a dainty maiden in distress.

Could Max have been her attacker and was now trying to pass as her rescuer? She didn’t want to believe it, but he appeared at the most opportune time.

Her vision wavered even more. She caught a glimpse of Max’s face as he rushed to catch her before she fell.