Page 187 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

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.”

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