Page 160 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Mrs. Jeffries’s gruff voice startled Becca. She’d forgotten the housekeeper was still in the doorway. “No, thanks. I think I’ll explore the house a bit, learn my way around.”

The housekeeper shrugged. “Just stay out of the room at the end of the hall on the third floor. Mr. Max doesn’t like anyone to disturb his wife’s things.” Her mouth in a tight line, she backed out of the room.

The room at the end of the hall. Though the warning was meant to keep her away, Becca knew sooner or later she’d have to check out that room. With the housekeeper gone, she stepped to the window and looked down onto the rocky shoreline. The lake looked blue and endless from here. The serenity was a lie. A month ago her parents had died in an explosion right off this point.

Her lips tightened. She would find out who killed them and make them pay. Her parents deserved it.

CHAPTER THREE

Max wanted to send the woman packing. He knew it was irrational, but she made the hackles rise on his back. Besides, she seemed too gauche and clumsy to make a good assistant. She’d likely spill coffee all over his papers and be too disorganized to be of much help. If he were smart, he’d go to her room right now and tell her he’d changed his mind.

He shook his head. The least he could do was to give her a chance. If he fired her now, he’d look like a fool. Besides, maybe she’d be good for Molly. For all her stiff manner and tailored suit, she’d seemed uncomfortable in her business attire, almost like she was playing dress-up. The next few days should reveal the real Becca Lynn.

He’d wait and bide his time. There had to be some reason she was here. Maybe whatever it was would prove a diversion for them all.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a Pepsi from the refrigerator.

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that, Max,” the housekeeper remarked. “All that sugar’s bad for you.”

“Keeps me sweet, Moxie,” he said, popping the top.

She snorted. “I haven’t seen any evidence of it mellowing you out.”

“What’s got you in such a sour mood?” he asked.

“I don’t like you bringing in this new girl without asking Mrs. Baxter. You got no call to install a woman here without her approval.”

“I’m not installing a woman here, Moxie! She’s a research assistant, nothing more.”

She raised one black eyebrow. “I saw the way you looked at her.”

“You’re seeing things. She’s not my type at all. I like them short and round.” He winked at her. “Like you. This one is too tall and clumsy.”

Moxie sniffed but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips at his sly compliment. “So you say. But I’m not blind even if you are.”

Becca knew exactlywhere she wanted to go first. She found the attic door and opened it. The steps creaked as she went up to the third floor. She paused at the landing and listened. Dust motes tickled her nose, and she sneezed. She froze at a noise. It almost sounded like singing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, and she held her breath.

The only sound that came to her straining ears was her heart thumping in her veins. She was being a ninny. Being in this house again had spooked her. Gripping the rough wooden railing, she eased up the final flight of steps. Her head poked through the opening into the attic, and she blinked at the bright sunlight streaming through the mullioned windows.

The third floor had been her favorite spot as a child—at least until that last visit. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she pushed away the memory. Easing up the last three steps, shestepped onto the rough, boarded floor and walked past stacks of boxes. Her gaze fixed on the door at the far end. Was it still there?

She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled. Her mouth went dry when her hand touched the doorknob into the end room. It had been fifteen years since she last stood here.

The doorknob turned noiselessly in her hand, and she pushed open the door. The laughter she’d heard came again, and Becca realized it was a child’s laughter. She glanced around the room and saw a small girl crouched in front of the trunk that Becca had come here to find.

“Hello,” Becca said.

The little girl whirled, the bonnet she wore slipping down her back. “Who are you? This is my place.”

“You must be Molly.” Becca smiled to reassure the child. “I’m Becca, your daddy’s new research assistant.”

Molly untied the bonnet from under her chin and placed it back into the chest. “You won’t tell, will you? Daddy says I’m not supposed to come up here.”

“Why not?”

“Daddy says old memories are bad for me. But I feel closer to Mommy up here. She used to play dress-up here too.”

Becca didn’t answer but crouched beside the little girl. “Looks like you’ve found quite a treasure. It’s fun to dress up and pretend to be someone else, isn’t it? Who are you today?”

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