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CHAPTER NINETEEN

A fter the excitement of the lumberjack contests yesterday, Max had rushed through his shower to see Becca. Now sitting with her in church, he felt complete and whole. Molly held his hand on his left, and he glanced at Becca from the corner of his eye.

She looked so beautiful with the sunshine sparking through the stained glass window and shimmering on her hair. A burgeoning happiness filled him so full he thought he couldn’t contain it.

He drank in the words of the sermon. Since he’d prayed with the minister, life seemed bright with promise. Becca’s coming had changed everything. God knew what he needed before Max realized it.

When was the last time he’d felt this eager and happy? Years, he knew. Maybe never. He tried to remember how life had been with Laura, but too many awkward and unhappy moments blurred his memory of the early days.

After church, he held her hand as they walked to the car. The same happiness shone on her face that he knew was on his. He was almost afraid to talk about the future for fear this joy would vanish if he looked at it too closely.

The next morning, his mood was still simmering on high. Max had enough time to look through some business affairs before dinner. He whistled as he turned on his computer. Glancing at his watch, he saw he had time to order supplies for the next month. Though it was nearly nine o’clock, the house was quiet. Gram and Molly had gone for a walk in the folly. Molly was always thrilled when she got Gram to herself. Jake and Wynne had gone to town, and Tate, Nick and Shayna weren’t up yet.

He wondered what they’d do if he pounded on their doors and told them to get ready for church. Grinning at the thought, he headed to the hallway.

The grandfather clock in the hall ticked loudly in the silence of the house. He went to Gram’s office and rummaged through the desk for the number of the store on the mainland. Everything was much more orderly now that Becca had worked her magic.

She’d been good for all of them. He smiled tenderly at the thought. She’d changed his life, his and Molly’s and Gram’s.

The household checkbook was in the lap drawer. He pulled it out and flipped it open to see if he needed to transfer funds to cover the purchase he intended to make. Only two hundred dollars, he’d better transfer some money. He got out the savings book and opened it.

His eyes widened at the figure at the bottom. It was over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars less than he’d expected. Where had it gone? The entries listed didn’t add up to the final total. A final total in Becca’s handwriting had a notation to the side that said ADJUSTMENT.

He pulled the phone toward him and dialed the bank. After being transferred to accounting, he explained the discrepancy.

“We show several transferals of fifty thousand dollars to a Rebecca Lynn Baxter’s account,” the woman told him. “Is there a problem, Mr. Duncan?”

“Would you fax me the details of those transactions, please?” he said. This couldn’t be true. Becca wouldn’t do something like this. Embezzle from her own grandmother? It didn’t make sense.

He hung up the phone and put it down. Surely there was some explanation. Could Gram have asked Becca to do this? Or maybe Gram herself had done it.

All his questions about Becca came surging back. Had she come here to get close to her grandmother for money? She’d been in school a while and maybe she had large education bills to pay. Gram would have been more than happy to help with that.

He shook his head. Not two hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of school bills. He was grasping at straws because he didn’t want to believe the evidence. Becca seemed so pure and innocent, but he’d been burned before. Laura had pulled the wool over his eyes too. It looked like he didn’t have good judgment when it came to women. He looked at the exterior and didn’t see the corruption under the pretty skin and soft eyes.

The fax machine began to spit out pages, and he glanced at the first one then laid it down again. What a putz he was. He’d never been in a single good relationship in his life. Why did he think this one would be any different? He should have known better.

He heard footsteps in the hall, and his stomach tightened. The coming confrontation wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Good morning.” Becca smiled at him from the doorway.

“Hi.” He couldn’t bear to look in her face. Such seemingly innocent eyes and smile. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

He dared a glance at her. Wariness had replaced the open love on her face. That hurt, but what he had to say would likely keep that expression of devotion from ever crossing her face again.

“I wonder if you can explain this?” He walked to the fax and picked up the papers the bank had faxed over.

She took it from his fingers and read it over. “Transferred to my account? This makes no sense.” Her brow creased with a frown that deepened when she met his gaze. “You—you don’t think I did it, do you?”

When he didn’t answer, she thrust it back at him. “Ask Gram if she had anything to do with it.”

“There’s more.” He handed the faxed pages to her. “Four transfers in all, Becca—one a week. All into your account. Did you think you could just bleed Gram dry and no one would notice?”

“I didn’t do it, Max.” She met his gaze.

How did she do it—how did she manage to look so innocent when the truth was staring them both in the face? “Becca, you must admit it looks bad.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t be so quick to jump to the conclusion I’m guilty,” she said quietly. “But you never did say it yesterday, did you? Was it just a ploy to get my guard down so you could accuse me of theft?”

“I don’t want to believe it,” he said. “Help me understand. Did you need the money for something important?”

“I didn’t take it, Max, but it looks like it’s going to be impossible to convince you of that.”

Her eyes seemed enormous, luminous and shimmering. If she cried, he was going to turn tail and run. “How did the money get in your account if you didn’t do it? Who besides yourself would know your account number?”

He heard the desperation in his voice. Surely she had to realize he wanted to believe her. If she could just give him some reasonable explanation, he’d grab it with both hands. “That money didn’t just magically appear in your bank account.”

“I realize that. Someone obviously is trying to make me look bad. And succeeding.” She balled the papers up and tossed them at him. “Here, you figure it out. I don’t want to talk to you about this any more. I’m wasting my time when it’s clear you think I’m a liar and a cheat.”

“I’m going to have to talk to Gram about this.”

“Of course you are,” she said bitterly. “You’ve been looking for a weakness you could exploit, haven’t you? What a bonanza. Did you move the money yourself, Max?”

He didn’t give her question the dignity of an answer. “I want you to move the money back to Gram’s account.”

“With pleasure.” She dropped her purse from her shoulder and rummaged through it before drawing out her checkbook. She stalked to the phone and dialed with jerky movements.

“I’d like to transfer some money,” she said. She read off the account number, then her face paled. “Are you sure?” she whispered. She listened a few moments. “Could you fax me over the last ten transactions?” She rattled off the fax number then hung up the phone.

“Don’t tell me. The money’s gone.” He should have known she’d pull something like this. She wouldn’t want the money left where it could be retrieved.

Her face was nearly as white as the lace curtains at the window. She wet her lips. “I’m actually overdrawn by fifty dollars. They used my overdraft protection.”

“Where was it transferred to?”

“A Swiss bank account.” Her blue eyes searched his face. “I know how this looks, Max. Don’t you think I’d be smarter than to pull something like this?”

“You weren’t expecting to get caught,” he said. “With doing Gram’s accounting yourself, you had no idea anyone would take a close look at the accounts. It was just a fluke I noticed the discrepancy.”

The front door opened, and he heard the sound of Gram and Molly’s laughter.

“You run along and go potty,” Gram said. “When you get back, we’ll have some tea.”

“Okay.” Molly’s steps raced past the office.

Max waited until he heard her on the steps then went to the doorway. “Gram, would you come in here please?”

Becca paled even further, so much so that he wondered if she might faint.

“Is something wrong, Max?” Gram evidently heard the solemn note in his voice.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He pointed to the desk chair. “You’d better have a seat.”

Gram shot him a puzzled look but did as he said. “Becca, are you all right? You look like you’re about to fall over. Come sit by me.”

“I’m fine, Gram,” Becca whispered.

“Gram, some money has turned up missing from your savings account. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“I know,” Gram said. “Becca told me the account balances, and I realized something was wrong. Do I need to cash in some stock or break into a CD?”

“No, you have enough liquid money for now. That’s not the most immediate problem.” Max wasn’t sure her heart could take the stress of what he had to tell her. “Why didn’t you tell me when you heard about it?”

“Tell me and quit beating around the bush, Max. I’m too old to play games.”

“He thinks I took it, Gram,” Becca burst out.

“Oh is that all? You know you can have whatever you need, Becca. Do you need more?”

“I didn’t take it, Gram.” Becca was beginning to sound even more desperate.

“Did you hear her, Max? She didn’t take it.”

“It was transferred to her account, Gram. And from there to a Swiss bank account.”

“I see.” Gram fell silent a few moments. “Who could have done this, Becca? If you say you had nothing to do with it, I believe you.”

“I know, Gram. You understand love, unlike other people.”

Max ran his hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to think, Becca? The evidence is right here in black and white!” He grabbed up a handful of papers and shook them in the air.

“Max, that’s no way to talk to Becca.”

Gram’s rebuke stung. “And this was no way for her to treat the grandmother she says she loves.”

“Someone else has done this to implicate her,” Gram said.

“It must be nice to live in a dream world.”

The fax machine whirred to live and spit out some pages. He stalked to the machine and grabbed up the papers.

“Let me see,” Becca said. She peered over his shoulder.

There were four large deposits and only one recent withdrawal. The Swiss number meant nothing to him. Except the end of a dream he should have know better than to harbor.

Becca felt battered and bruised. It felt like years ago that Max had looked at her with love in his eyes. And it hadn’t been love, obviously. It had been a chimera, a mirage. If this was what love felt like, she never wanted to go through it again.

She wouldn’t have believed Max could turn so fast from the tender, caring man she’d come to love into this cold-eyed man who refused to listen to her explanations.

“We already know someone here hates me,” she said. “Someone tried to kill me several times. And someone killed my parents.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Max said. “Have all of the so-called attempts on your life been ruses meant to throw us off the trail of why you’re really here?”

“Max, that’s enough!” Gram rose. “You’re upsetting Becca.”

Becca felt she would explode if she stayed in this room another minute. She couldn’t bear to see the accusation in his eyes. “I’m going for a walk,” she said.

She didn’t wait for an answer but turned and raced for the door.

“Becca, wait!” her grandmother called after her.

She didn’t want to upset her grandmother, but she couldn’t talk. Her throat was too tight. She flung open the front door and dashed outside. Her heart raced inside her tight chest. She wanted off this island and away from Max Duncan and his accusatory gaze.

Running around the side of the house, she almost knocked Shayna down. She put out her hands to catch Shayna. “Sorry,” she said.

“Where you going in such a hurry?” Shayna glanced into Becca’s face.

“Anywhere as long as it’s away from Max.” Becca was in no mood to talk. She veered around Shayna in angry strides and walked toward the back of the house.

“Hey, you okay?” Shayna called after her.

Becca just raised her hand in the air and kept on walking. The last thing she wanted was to explain to another person that the man she loved thought she was a thief and a liar.

Tears burned her eyes, and her vision blurred. Oh God, why? I can’t stand this. Hold me, Lord. Help me to cling to you right now.

She jogged through the garden and into the trees, plunging through the brush past the treehouse and toward the folly. Whips of brush caught in her hair and sprang toward her face, but she pushed them out of the way and kept on going.

She broke free of the tree line and stopped in the rubble around the folly. The crumbling building loomed in front of her. She remembered Tate’s furtive trip there a few weeks ago. Maybe now would be a good time to explore the old ruin. It would get her mind off her troubles.

She glanced around. Not an animal moved. The wind sighed through the treetops, but not even birds chirped here. She’d often wondered why this place was so still, almost as though it were cursed.

Climbing over the shale and shattered brick, she wandered through the ruins, remembering the fun she had playing here as a child. She finally gained the slope to the front door and stood in front of it, half afraid to go in. The building probably wasn’t safe, but at this moment, she really didn’t care.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the half ajar door fully open. A startled bird fluttered past her cheek, and she flinched then watched it fly through a gaping hole in the roof. Debris littered the floor, old papers, crumpled brick and plaster, slate tile from the decayed roof, and animal droppings.

It wasn’t the fairy-tale place of her memory. Why would Tate have come in here? She picked her way through refuse to the room at the far end. The door hung open and she nudged it with her foot until it squeaked back against the wall. The small room that met her gaze was even more disreputable than the first. She stepped inside and looked around. She would have sworn there was once another room here.

She wiped her hand over her face and leaned against the wall. Becca felt something shift, then the wall began to fall away from her. She reached out to try to stop her fall but grasped only air. Flailing, she fell backward on top of the crumbling wall and tumbled into a space the broken rubble revealed.

She landed hard. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she struggled to catch her breath. At least she hadn’t broken anything. She lurched to her feet and turned to survey the room.

Someone had cleaned in here. The floor was swept, and a bed sat in the middle of the room. Covered with a clean quilt and pillows, it looked comfy and inviting. But how had anyone gotten in here? She glanced around but could see no other way in or out. Maybe there was a hidden door somewhere.

Someone had been living here. An old wardrobe was the only piece of furniture in the small cubicle other than the bed. She walked to the dresser and opened the oblong door.

A huge headdress of feathers, bone and teeth hung from a hook inside. Becca remembered the figure in the woods that had tried to kill her and flinched back, not wanting to even touch the thing.

Tate? She felt cold. She never would have suspected him.

She couldn’t bear to look at the hideous thing. She shut the doors. Two drawers were below. She pulled open the first drawer and found a shoebox inside. She pulled it out and opened the lid.

Inside was a mishmash of pictures and papers. Rummaging through them, she found one of her parents when they were first married. They looked so young and utterly happy. Her mother was staring up at her father with an adoring expression that brought a lump to her throat. No matter what anyone said, she found it impossible to believe her mother could have betrayed her father.

She sat on the edge of the bed and began to look through the papers. It looked like old love letters from her parents to one another. The missives were tattered and yellow with age.

She read several, smiling at the sentiment in them. Her father had been quite eloquent, more than she would have imagined. About halfway down, she opened a newer letter written on stationery that still held a hint of perfume. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

Nick. We have to move quickly. Meet me at our spot tonight at midnight. Be ready for anything. Our future hinges on what we must do tonight. Shayna

Nick and Shayna. Why had she never seen it before? Shayna’s jealousy when Nick had shown too much attention to other women had seemed merely a beautiful woman piqued at attention paid to another.

Becca reread the note. What did they have to move quickly on? Could it have anything to do with her parents’ accident? The note was too cryptic to understand. Maybe there was more in the box. She rummaged through more love letters then found the same stationery near the bottom of the box.

Nick. We have one more obstacle in our way. I’ve been going through pictures for that scrapbook for Gram and recognized Rebecca when we were introduced. We have to make sure Gram never realizes who she is. I’ve destroyed the letter from Will to Suzanne that proves she’s Will’s child. And I have a plan. Meet me tonight. Shayna

She was Will’s child. Gram was right. She was the only child of Gram’s oldest son. No wonder Nick and Shayna saw her as an obstacle. Gram was adamant about giving her the lion’s share of the estate, just as she’d been determined to give Mason the same until he’d been killed.

Shayna must have thought Tate would still get the estate once Mason was out of the way, and then when Becca showed up, Shayna had suspected what Gram would do if it ever came to light that she was Will’s child.

An envelope lay under the letter, and she pulled it out. An account book and a paper with access codes for a Swiss bank account. They’d taken Gram’s money as well and tried to frame her with it.

It made sense. They knew the theft would be discovered, and Becca would be disgraced. Since so far they’d failed to kill her, she would be discredited.

She finally the answers. Her parents were murdered, and Shayna and Nick wanted her dead as well. But something still didn’t make sense. Why would Nick be involved? It was Tate who would get the lion’s share if Becca were dead. She swallowed hard as she tried to figure it out.

Shayna wouldn’t get the house or much of the estate if she divorced Tate and married Nick. Becca chewed on her lower lip. But would Shayna divorce him? If she’d murdered once, she might again. As Tate’s widow, she would inherit all of it.

Though she had no proof, she knew she’d stumbled on the truth. Not only her life was in danger, but Tate’s as well. She heard a sound behind her and whirled.

“I see you found my little love nest.” Nick stood smiling benignly in the doorway.

Becca jumped and put a hand over her thudding heart. The box dropped on the floor. She stooped to pick up the jumbled papers.

“Leave them.” Nick’s tone stayed amiable.

“How do you plan to kill Tate?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Nick’s smile faded. “What are you talking about?”

“It makes sense. You have nothing to gain with him still alive.” Becca stood and glanced out of the corner of her eye for a weapon.

Nick casually pulled a small revolver from his pocket. “Don’t move, Becca.”

“Good, you got here in time.” Shayna joined Nick in the doorway.

Two against one. Becca prayed for strength as she grabbed a broken stool and sprang toward them.