Page 227 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“It must be nice to live in a dream world.”

The fax machine whirred to live and spit out some pages. He stalked to the machine and grabbed up the papers.

“Let me see,” Becca said. She peered over his shoulder.

There were four large deposits and only one recent withdrawal. The Swiss number meant nothing to him. Except the end of a dream he should have know better than to harbor.

Becca felt battered and bruised.It felt like years ago that Max had looked at her with love in his eyes. And it hadn’t been love, obviously. It had been a chimera, a mirage. If this was what love felt like, she never wanted to go through it again.

She wouldn’t have believed Max could turn so fast from the tender, caring man she’d come to love into this cold-eyed man who refused to listen to her explanations.

“We already know someone here hates me,” she said. “Someone tried to kill me several times. And someone killed my parents.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Max said. “Have all of the so-called attempts on your life been ruses meant to throw us off the trail of why you’re really here?”

“Max, that’s enough!” Gram rose. “You’re upsetting Becca.”

Becca felt she would explode if she stayed in this room another minute. She couldn’t bear to see the accusation in his eyes. “I’m going for a walk,” she said.

She didn’t wait for an answer but turned and raced for the door.

“Becca, wait!” her grandmother called after her.

She didn’t want to upset her grandmother, but she couldn’t talk. Her throat was too tight. She flung open the front door and dashed outside. Her heart raced inside her tight chest. She wanted off this island and away from Max Duncan and his accusatory gaze.

Running around the side of the house, she almost knocked Shayna down. She put out her hands to catch Shayna. “Sorry,” she said.

“Where you going in such a hurry?” Shayna glanced into Becca’s face.

“Anywhere as long as it’s away from Max.” Becca was in no mood to talk. She veered around Shayna in angry strides and walked toward the back of the house.

“Hey, you okay?” Shayna called after her.

Becca just raised her hand in the air and kept on walking. The last thing she wanted was to explain to another person that the man she loved thought she was a thief and a liar.

Tears burned her eyes, and her vision blurred. Oh God, why? I can’t stand this. Hold me, Lord. Help me to cling to you right now.

She jogged through the garden and into the trees, plunging through the brush past the treehouse and toward the folly.Whips of brush caught in her hair and sprang toward her face, but she pushed them out of the way and kept on going.

She broke free of the tree line and stopped in the rubble around the folly. The crumbling building loomed in front of her. She remembered Tate’s furtive trip there a few weeks ago. Maybe now would be a good time to explore the old ruin. It would get her mind off her troubles.

She glanced around. Not an animal moved. The wind sighed through the treetops, but not even birds chirped here. She’d often wondered why this place was so still, almost as though it were cursed.

Climbing over the shale and shattered brick, she wandered through the ruins, remembering the fun she had playing here as a child. She finally gained the slope to the front door and stood in front of it, half afraid to go in. The building probably wasn’t safe, but at this moment, she really didn’t care.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the half ajar door fully open. A startled bird fluttered past her cheek, and she flinched then watched it fly through a gaping hole in the roof. Debris littered the floor, old papers, crumpled brick and plaster, slate tile from the decayed roof, and animal droppings.

It wasn’t the fairy-tale place of her memory. Why would Tate have come in here? She picked her way through refuse to the room at the far end. The door hung open and she nudged it with her foot until it squeaked back against the wall. The small room that met her gaze was even more disreputable than the first. She stepped inside and looked around. She would have sworn there was once another room here.

She wiped her hand over her face and leaned against the wall. Becca felt something shift, then the wall began to fall away from her. She reached out to try to stop her fall but grasped only air. Flailing, she fell backward on top of the crumbling wall and tumbled into a space the broken rubble revealed.

She landed hard. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she struggled to catch her breath. At least she hadn’t broken anything. She lurched to her feet and turned to survey the room.

Someone had cleaned in here. The floor was swept, and a bed sat in the middle of the room. Covered with a clean quilt and pillows, it looked comfy and inviting. But how had anyone gotten in here? She glanced around but could see no other way in or out. Maybe there was a hidden door somewhere.

Someone had been living here. An old wardrobe was the only piece of furniture in the small cubicle other than the bed. She walked to the dresser and opened the oblong door.

A huge headdress of feathers, bone and teeth hung from a hook inside. Becca remembered the figure in the woods that had tried to kill her and flinched back, not wanting to even touch the thing.

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