Page 189 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“I—I knew the people who died on the boat last month. I was trying to find out about the explosion.”

“How did you know them?”

She looked away. “I’d rather not say.”

“I think you’d better.”

She hadn’t been looking at him as she spoke, but she looked up from her studied perusal of the carpet at his sharp tone. Her chin jutted out. “No. That’s all I’m saying. But I’ll continue to do the best job I can with your work. You need me, Max, and you know it.”

He scowled. She was right about that. He needed someone to organize his notes and help keep him on track. It was unlikely he could find someone else to come out here. And Molly loved her. But was she more trouble than she was worth? He was beginning to think so.

He sighed and chewed on his lower lip. It could wait until he had her investigated. Maybe he’d be far enough along in his work to be able to do without her then.

“You can stay,” he said abruptly. “But stay out of family business. It doesn’t concern you.”

She didn’t respond to his terse comment but merely nodded and turned to leave. She turned back around. “I can see under that gruff exterior, Max. You’re not as tough as you’d like people to believe. And God still loves you, even if you don’t believe it.”

Her tall, willowy figure slipped out the door. Max closed it behind her. What did she know about the way God had deserted him? He glanced at his watch. Nearly nine o’clock. Adam should still be up. He grabbed the phone and dialed the number.

“Hey, Adam,” Max said when his old college friend answered the phone. “I’ve got a rush job for you. Find out what you can about a Becca Lynn.” He told Adam what he knew and gave him Becca’s last address. His friend promised to see what he could find out.

Max hung up the phone and went to the window. The moonlight glimmered on Lake Superior’s waves. To the west, he could see the lighthouse on the mainland flicker on and off. The old lighthouse had been dark for years until Bree Nicholls had restored it. Now the beacon guided ships through dangerouswaters, and Max often wished there was a beacon like that for him. He felt adrift these days, rudderless.

Becca’s arrival had sparked a yearning he’d had when talking to Gram in the old days. Gram would say it was God tugging at him, and maybe that’s what was happening. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad.

Becca’s pulsestill throbbed as she escaped to her room. Max wouldn’t let things ride for long. She could sense his impatience to know the truth. He’d get it out of her before too long. It was all she could do not to spill all of it when his gaze pinned her to the wall. She had to maintain her composure long enough to discover the truth. Max was still a suspect himself. She had to remember that.

Her room felt tainted as her eyes fell on the bed where the figurine had been. A trickle as cold as Superior ran up her spine. She fell to her knees beside the bed and prayed for safety and for God to cleanse this room of the evil that had been here.

“Help me to be a light in the darkness here, Lord,” she whispered as she got up and wiped her eyes. She had to lean on God for courage because right now she wanted to turn and run.

This place needed light. Through the window she could see the lighthouse beacon flash on and off. She hadn’t done a very good job the last few days. Sometimes the darkness seemed overwhelming. The lighthouse never tired of its job out on the water, and she needed to have that same steadfastness.

Her grandmother would be a haven for her. She glanced at her watch. Would Gram still be up? One way to find out. She slipped out the door and tiptoed down the hall. A light shone from under Gram’s bedroom door. Becca tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in.” Gram’s voice sounded strong and alert.

Becca heard a sound down the hall to the left. She stepped quickly into Gram’s bedroom and shut the door behind her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she prayed no one had seen her enter her grandmother’s room. It would be sure to arouse suspicion for the secretary to be spending time with the house owner for no apparent reason. She was going to have to watch how she interacted with Gram.

Her grandmother was propped in bed on three pillows with her Bible in her hand. Her face brightened when she saw Becca.

“I was just praying for you, my dear,” she said, holding out her hand. “You look upset. What is it?”

“Max is suspicious of me,” Becca said, hurrying to the bed. “He was ready to throw me off the island.”

“We can’t have that,” Gram said.

Becca could see the wheels turning in Gram’s head. “I have an idea,” her grandmother said. “The kids have been after me to do something about my books. Do you have any bookkeeping experience?”

“Yes, I have a minor in business,” Becca admitted. Of course she also had minors in art history, interior design and economics, though she didn’t admit it. She didn’t want her grandmother to know she’d been such a flake in college and had changed her major so many times she’d spent six years in school.

“Perfect. I’ll tell Max he has to share you, and that I want you to keep my books and help me get organized. What are your hours with him?”

“Nine to three.”

“We’ll change those from nine to one and you can work on my books for a couple of hours a day.”

“He’ll be angry,” Becca warned.

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