Page 200 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Could Max have been her attacker and was now trying to pass as her rescuer? She didn’t want to believe it, but he appeared at the most opportune time.

Her vision wavered even more. She caught a glimpse of Max’s face as he rushed to catch her before she fell.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Max panted as he lugged a barely conscious Becca to the house. “I’m glad I worked out this morning,” he muttered to himself. She was heavy.

“You’re not supposed to notice,” Becca whispered. Her hand was wrapped around his neck, but it loosened as she began to fade out again.

“I said you were a Valkyrie when you first showed up,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to wimp out on me. Come on now, stay with me.”

In the yellowish light from the pole lamp, she looked half dead. A smear of blood marred her cheek, and he felt the warm trickle of more on his hand from where it dripped off her arm.

He jiggled her when she failed to respond. “Who did this?” he demanded.

“The Windigo,” she murmured. “Or maybe something else.” Her lashes fluttered, then her eyes closed again.

She was delirious. She must have some kind of fixation about the Windigo. Panic flared when he saw how white she was. In the dark, he couldn’t tell how serious her wound was. He had to get her inside and tended to.

He reached the back door and shouted for help. Her hand along the back of his neck tightened, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. Twin pools of blue that beckoned as much as the cold, refreshing water of Lake Superior. He wanted to shake her for scaring him half to death, but at least she was conscious again.

“Open the door!” He kicked it with his foot.

Mrs. Jeffries opened the door. “What on earth. . .” She held open the door while he carried Becca across the floor to a chair.

“Get me some soap and water and peroxide,” he ordered. A little more color was showing in Becca’s cheeks. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back. “Lie still.” He shoved up her sleeve and probed the wound. She winced. “Sorry,” he said.

Mrs. Jeffries carried a basin of water to him. She had a bottle of peroxide tucked under her arm. “Want me to call the doctor?”

“No, I’m fine. I think it was just shock.” Becca tried to sit up again.

“You are so stubborn,” he said “Lie still and let me tend to this.” He cleansed the wound. “I think she’ll be okay. It’s not deep. Get me some tape.” He poured peroxide on the cut. He winced when Becca’s face went whiter and beaded with perspiration. If he ever got his hands on the madman who did this, he’d throttle him.

Becca gulped. “It’s better now,” she whispered.

“What happened?” he asked as he cut strips of white tape to make butterfly stitches.

“Someone had Misty in a cage, I assume to lure me out to look for her. He came at me with a knife.”

“Could you see any features?”

“No, it was too dark.” She looked around. “Where is everyone?”

Max looked around. He’d been so focused on tending Becca he hadn’t noticed. “I don’t know.”

“Mrs. Baxter went to bed, and the young ones went out. Tate and Shayna had a fight, and they went different directions. Mr. Nick went for a walk along the beach.”

Max didn’t want to think anyone in the house would have tried to hurt Becca, but it had to be someone who had access to the house. Someone had taken Misty out. His gaze sought Becca’s face again.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth yet?”

She flushed, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I was going to tell you—all of you—tonight until we discovered Misty was missing.” She glanced around. “Misty, where is she?”

“I brought her in,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “She was yowling at the back door. She’s eating.” She pointed to the corner where Misty crouched over her dish of food.

Becca sighed and sat back in her chair. Her hands were visibly shaking, but Max hardened his heart. “I want to know the truth. Now.” Though he knew the truth, he wanted to hear her say it. It would mean more if she told the truth. He hated liars.

“I’m Rebecca Lynn Baxter,” she said simply.

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