Page 192 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“How did you get Gram to agree to letting you help her?”

“It was her idea.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He stared at her steadily until she looked away.

“It’s the truth,” she said. “I didn’t even know she needed any help, so how could it have been my idea?”

“I want to know how you know Mason and Suzanne Baxter,” Max muttered. “I don’t like all this secrecy.”

Becca sighed. “Let’s just get to work.”

He shoved a stack of papers away. “I’m warning you—don’t do anything to hurt Gram. I love her, and you won’t like the consequences if I ever find out you’ve stepped over the line.”

“I love her too,” Becca protested.

“You don’t know her that well. Or so you claim.” His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

Caught. She looked away. “She’s a darling. Anyone can see that,” she said.

“Yes, she is. She’s always been there for me, and I will always be here for her. So take that as a warning.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Becca said.

“Oh, I am. But I’m watching you as well. You’re going to have to tell me the truth sooner or later. I’d rather it be sooner, but I can wait. I’m good at waiting.”

Becca knew how a mouse felt when it was trapped in a hole by a patient cat. Maybe her brother and sister could come soon. She could use an ally. The heavy load of what she had to accomplish nearly crushed her shoulders. But she’d do this. Her parents deserved that much.

She looked at the desk. “What do you want me to do first?”

“Just keep working on taking notes of pertinent Ojibwa legends. Group them by type of legend.”

She nodded and got to work. When she ran across the section on the Windigo, she sat up and paid even closer attention. According to the three books she had looked at, some researchers thought the legends may have started with men who contracted rabies or who went insane from the isolation of the far north.

That didn’t apply here. Becca’s thoughts wandered to the figurine left on her bed last night. Mrs. Jeffries seemed the most likely culprit, in spite of her professed horror at seeing it. She was the one who talked about the Windigo all the time. What if she had recognized Becca and wanted her gone? But that still didn’t answer the question of why. Becca was no threat to the housekeeper.

Becca sighed and pushed the book away. Her head ached from the sleepless night and the stress of the last few days. She longed to kick off her shoes and wander in the sand, thoughlooking at the inclement weather, that wasn’t a good option today.

Max leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “It’s nearly lunch time. Molly is supposed to go to her friend’s for a sleepover. Would you care to ride along? There’s an Ojibwa burial site I thought we might stop and see on the way home.”

“Today?” Becca glanced at the wet, gray skies.

“You afraid you’ll melt?”

His derisive tone smarted and implied he knew she wasn’t sugar. “Not at all,” she said. “I’m game. I was wanting a break anyway.”

“Bring an umbrella and stout shoes. It’s not an easy walk.”

Even as she nodded and went to gather her things, Becca wondered if it was safe to go off with Max. Accidents happened, and he wouldn’t be held accountable for it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Molly chattered the entire way to town. Max tried to answer her questions, but his attention kept wandering to the woman beside him. Becca hadn’t wasted any time in gaining an ally in Gram. How had she done it? There hadn’t been time last night, and he’d been up early this morning. There were so many undercurrents in this situation, he felt he was swimming against a whirlpool in Lake Superior.

He pulled up in front of the Korpela home. Molly hopped out, and he promised to pick her up in the morning. Saija waved from the doorway. Becca waved back with what seemed to Max to be extreme vigor. They’d certainly become friends in one short visit.

Becca seemed to have a way of getting to people. Even Max had to admit he found her appealing. She was more than lovely to look at, and she had a dogged persistence he admired. Whatever had brought her here, she wasn’t a quitter.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked.

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