Page 178 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

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 familystopped 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 tookMolly 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.”

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