Page 182 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Sure.” Becca jumped to her feet, nearly spilling her tea. “I’ll talk to you later, uh—Mrs. Baxter.”

“Call me Gram, please. Everyone else does.”

Becca felt heat rise in her cheeks as Max raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Gr—Gram. I’ll see you at dinner. Thanks for the tea.” She put her empty cup on the table and went toward the door.

“If Molly gets too much for you, send her down to me,” Max told Gram.

“Molly is never too much for me,” Gram said stoutly. She adjusted the little girl on her lap and reached for a storybook on the bookshelf beside her chair.

Becca could feel the unspoken questions radiating from Max as they settled in at their respective desks. He drummed his fingers on the desktop, sighed, then typed a few words. He finally leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to look at her.

“What did Gram want?”

Becca bit her lip and kept her head buried in the thick book she’d been making notations on. “Um, nothing really. I think she just wanted to get to know me.”

“That’s not like her to call a private meeting.” His suspicious gaze raked over her face.

She shrugged. “We just had tea, and I told her about visiting my grandmother in a place a lot like this one.” Too late she realized that was the wrong thing to say. What place could be like this?

“I’ve never seen any place like Windigo Manor. Where did your grandmother live?”

“In Indiana,” she said, thinking of her Grandma Phyllis’ big Victorian house in Wabash.

“The cornfields of Indiana are nothing like Eagle Island,” he said. “What did you talk to Gram about?”

Her head snapped and she stood. “Look, let’s just get this out once and for all. What is it you’re so suspicious of?”

“You’re not who you seem,” he said. “I think there’s a lot you’re hiding about who you are. I don’t want the ones I love to be drawn into something that could hurt them. If someone really tried to kill you, then everyone here might be in danger, including my daughter.”

“That’s ludicrous!” she snapped. But was it? If the person who killed Becca’s parents had done so for Gram’s estate, then would Molly be next? Maybe she should tell Max her fears.

She rejected the idea as soon as it settled in her head. He might be the killer himself. If so, Molly was perfectly safe—it was Becca and Tate who might be in danger. But if Max wasn’t the murderer, then Becca and Molly might be targets. She needed help from somewhere to watch out for all three of them.

She shook her head and shoved her pencil across the table. “Look, Max, I’m here to do a job. Will you please just let me do it? You’re driving me crazy with your groundless suspicions. I’m no threat to you or your daughter or anyone else here.”

“It sounds like you’re saying you’re a threat to someone though. What if he follows you here?”

“No one is following me here!” She stood and stalked to the window. She squinted at the distant boat on the waves of the Lake. “I think someone might be in trouble out there!”

Max joined her at the window and grabbed the binoculars on the windowsill. “It’s Shayna,” he said. “I think her motor must have quit. I’d better get Tate and go after her.”

“Do you need me to come?”

“No, you stay here. Work.” He pointed at the books. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Calling for Tate, he bolted from the room.

After a few minutes, she heard the motorboat pull away from the dock. She diligently took notes for a while then got up to get a soda. Nick was in the kitchen poking through the refrigerator.

His face brightened when he saw her. “Want to scavenge with me? I’m starved.”

“I just want a soda.” She took the one he handed her and popped the top.

“When do you have to go back to school?”

“Not until mid-August. You in a hurry to get rid of me?” He grinned as he took a bite of cheese.

“Of course not. I was just wondering. What do you do all summer?”

He shrugged. “Swim, body surf, lay in the sun.”

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