Читать книгу Fatal Inheritance - Sandra Orchard - Страница 13

THREE

Josh shone his waterproof flashlight in, under and around the submerged car, fanned the search out another ten yards in every direction, then kicked to the surface. Hailing the officer in charge of the recovery, Josh pulled the regulator from his mouth. “It’s clear.”

“Good.” Walt passed Josh the tow cable. “Hook her up. Then check the rest of the pit.”

Josh reinserted his mouthpiece, then dived to the bottom with the cable and secured the towline to the car’s frame. It’d take him another hour at least to thoroughly search every corner of the former quarry. Most of it was under eight feet or less of water, but one of the guys had said it got as deep as forty in the northeast corner. He kicked out of the way of the vehicle and surfaced long enough to signal it was okay to start towing.

He didn’t want to spend any more time out here than he had to. He couldn’t get that Neil guy off his mind. Bec hadn’t seemed all that comfortable with him, and Neil clearly hadn’t been deterred.

Josh didn’t like how fidgety the guy had made her. Thanks to her prowler, she’d been jittery enough already. She didn’t need an unwelcome wannabe boyfriend insinuating himself into the situation. And any guy who traveled this far just to check up on her had to have been more than a colleague, or wanted to be.

Josh clawed through the water, scoping every rock crevice. Had he been too quick to take Bec’s word that she was okay being left alone with Neil?

He was taking way too much interest in Bec’s affairs. A carp jutted from behind the rock ahead of Josh, stirring up a cloud of silt. He treaded in one spot, waiting for the water to clear. At least he’d had the decency to let a woman go without argument when she turned him down. Maybe he should have run a background check on Neil, made sure the guy wasn’t some sort of stalker.

He hadn’t missed Neil’s You know you don’t belong here, which sounded too much like the note that had been waiting for Bec in her mailbox when she’d arrived.

Josh dived back under, swimming faster than ever. Broken beer bottles littered the bottom of the pit. The area had been a popular hangout for teens for as long as he could remember. Surprising there wasn’t more graffiti on the rocks than the occasional heart framing lovers’ initials.

His thoughts slipped back to Bec, or more precisely the strange feeling that had come over him when she’d given him that impulsive hug. It reminded him of the time she’d thanked him for rescuing her from the tree she’d gotten herself stuck in as a kid. Only, when he’d folded his arms around her, it hadn’t felt the same at all. He probably should be relieved Neil had shown up when he had.

If she knew how he’d failed her grandparents, she wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. She was too vulnerable right now, between coping with her loss and starting over in a new town, a new job. Moving into the house. And now this prowler. Josh needed to focus on keeping her safe. Not on how wonderful it had felt to hold a woman in his arms.

He gave a hard kick and propelled himself into the deeper water. A woman in his arms... He knew better than to let his thoughts wander into that territory. He supposed helping his old high-school pal bring in his hay yesterday had started it.

His friend’s wife and young son had brought a picnic lunch to the field for them, the boy squealing with delight when Josh’s friend tickled his sides as the wife looked on with a contented expression.

It was the kind of life Josh had always longed for.

He sliced his arms through the water, relying more heavily on the narrow beam of his flashlight as he pushed deeper. The same as he’d learned to do with God. The Lord had blessed him with a country home, a good job and plenty of friends, and had even brought his sister back to Serenity.

Wishing for more only led to a whole well of hurt.

Neil, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be getting that message.

The vibration of the winding tow cable rippled through the water.

Josh beefed up his strokes. The sooner he covered the search area, the sooner he could get home.

A shadow fell over the water ahead of him. Glancing up, he spotted a signal buoy. He kicked to the surface.

“Over here,” Walt shouted from a new position onshore.

Josh pulled the regulator from his mouth. “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to let you know if your cell phone rang.”

His pulse jerked. Bec? “What’s the caller ID?”

“Hunter Madison.”

Josh’s heart settled back into a steady rhythm. “Okay, let it go to voice mail. I’ll call him when I’m finished.” Hunter probably just wanted to check on where to put the cameras.

Josh dived back under and swept his light in widening arcs. The fish had gone into hiding. Hopefully, Bec’s prowler wouldn’t do the same. The last thing Bec needed was weeks of worrying if and when the intruder would show up again.

He winged a prayer skyward that God would help him catch the guy quickly.

The water was crystal clear, tinted a nice aquamarine, thanks to the limestone. Maybe he’d bring Bec here sometime with the dog. She might get a kick out of hunting for fossils in the rocks. It’d help take her mind off her troubles for a while. That and going out in her grandfather’s old Cadillac.

Her eyes had lit up at the prospect, and he couldn’t deny he was more than happy to fulfill that particular wish.

Overhead, the water grew choppy from the car breaking the surface.

Josh waited for the tow truck to haul the car out onto the flat rock overlooking the mini-lake and then did a final sweep of the area, his thoughts already back at the farm.

Finding nothing, he kicked to the surface and climbed out.

Walt handed him a towel. “There’s nothing suspicious in the car. What do you make of it?”

Josh yanked off his regulator and mask and dragged his mind back to the investigation. “There’s no body. Kids likely stole the car for a joyride, then ditched the evidence.” More likely kids in this case than the incident in Bec’s barn...unfortunately.

“Kids don’t usually think to pull plates.”

“True. Could’ve been used in a crime, then dumped.” Josh scrubbed his hair dry with the towel. “Get any hits with the car’s make and model?”

“Nope, not within Niagara anyway. No unrecovered Plymouths of any model reported stolen in the last two years.”

“So not insurance fraud.”

Walt shrugged. “Could be from another region.”

“That car hasn’t been down there more than a week.” Josh walked around the car and then, stepping back, studied the distinctive rear taillights.

“You recognize something?” Walt asked.

“Yeah.” Josh clenched the towel in his fist. “I think it’s the same car I saw pull out of a farmer’s field near my place last night...around the same time my new neighbor was attacked by a prowler.”

* * *

Becki headed to the car to grab the last of her boxes and froze. A stone’s throw away, a black SUV idled in Josh’s driveway. The dark-haired guy behind the wheel squinted at her, then turned off his engine.

Her breath caught. Was he the prowler?

She glanced around. Where was Tripod?

The SUV’s door opened, and the guy’s enormous boots hit the gravel with a thud. Boots that could dispense with Josh’s three-legged dog in one swift kick.

The guy peeled off a jacket and slapped a ball cap on his head, exposing tattooed, steely arms. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in two days. Army-olive fatigues completed the impression of a mercenary looking for action. The guy reached behind his seat.

Josh’s words blasted through her mind. Some guys would just as soon shoot a witness as run away.

Becki whirled on her heel and ran for the house.

“Hey, hold up there. Are you Bec?”

Bec? She stopped two yards from the door. Josh was the only one who called her that. This had to be the friend he’d called about borrowing the cameras. She turned slowly and backed up another couple of steps just to be safe. “Who wants to know?”

A friendly grin—not in the least bit mercenary—dented his cheeks. “I’m Hunter.” He lifted his hand. A couple of drab-colored boxes dangled from his fingertips. “Josh asked me to hang these up for you.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat and added, “I appreciate that. Follow me, and I’ll show—”

A sporty green car turned into her driveway.

“Oh.” She looked from the car to the barn.

“You see to your visitor,” Hunter said. “I can find my way.” He tipped his hat and devoured the distance to the barn in powerful strides.

Able to breathe again, she reasoned that if Josh trusted the guy, she could, too. But the message wasn’t getting to her pounding heart. She turned to the approaching car. The place was starting to feel like Grand Central Station. She didn’t recognize the middle-aged man behind the wheel, but he looked a whole lot safer than Rambo.

He parked behind her car and lowered his window. “You Graw’s granddaughter?”

“Yes. May I help you?”

The man stepped out of his car. Unlike Rambo, he was dressed conservatively, with his hair neatly cut, and clean-shaven. Empathy shone from his eyes when he extended his hand. “Name’s Henry Smith. Remember we talked on the phone a few days back?”

“Oh, yes. You’re the friend of my grandfather’s.” On the phone, he’d sounded closer to Gramps’s age.

He cupped her hand between his. “I wanted to drop by to give my condolences. Your grandfather was a dear friend.”

She tilted her head. “You said you knew him through the antique-car club, is that right?”

“That’s right.” He released her hand and reached into the car. “I thought you might like this.” He handed her an eight-by-ten photo of Gran and Gramps posing by their Cadillac in their period costumes.

“Oh, wow!” She savored her grandparents’ smiling faces. “Thank you so much. It’s lovely.”

“Took that on our last tour together. Thought you’d like it.”

Becki traced the hat her gran wore. “I used to love snapping Gramps’s suspenders and trying on Gran’s big floppy hats.”

“Yup, those are great costumes. There’d be a lot of folks in the club who’d be happy to buy them from you if you wanted to sell. Might be interested in some myself if you have time for me to look them over.”

“Oh.” She fluttered her hand toward the barn. “I think they stored those with the car in the trailer, which isn’t here right now. But I’m not ready to part with anything just yet.”

“Of course not.”

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

Becki hitched her thumb toward the house. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, no.” He motioned toward her open trunk. “I can see you’re busy. I just wanted to see you got the photo.”

She grabbed the last two boxes from her car and closed the lid. “C’mon, I could use the break and I’d love to hear more about your trips with my grandparents.”

“Well if you put it that way... There’s nothing we car enthusiasts like to do more than talk about our cars. Except tour them, of course.”

She chuckled, recalling countless Saturday afternoons sitting on the back porch, listening to Gramps and his buddies talk about cars. “What kind of car do you drive on the tours, Mr. Smith?” she asked, leading the way to the back porch.

“Call me Henry, please. Sure is a beautiful place your grandparents had here.”

“I think so. Of course, my ex-boyfriend thinks I’m nuts to want to live out here. He thinks the seclusion and wild animals are way scarier than street crimes.”

“Sounds like someone who’s never spent a day in the country.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Henry’s gaze drifted over her shoulder. “Not that fella, then?”

She glanced back at Hunter, who blended into the tree in his camouflage. “Uh, no. He’s just a...neighbor.” She motioned Henry to one of the porch chairs. “Just give me a minute to get the coffee.”

Henry followed her as far as the open patio door. “Your grandfather had some car trouble on his last tour. If he didn’t get the chance to fix it, I could take a look if you like.”

Becki grabbed the coffee sweetener from the cupboard. “That’s okay. My neighbor already offered.” She poured their coffees and rejoined Henry outside. “So tell me about your last tour with Gran and Gramps.”

“First, tell me about your plans. What will you do with the old Cadillac?”

“Um, not sure yet.” Becki shoved away the guilty feeling that the car was too valuable to be lumped with “contents” in the will. She couldn’t bear the thought of parting with the “old gal,” knowing how much she’d meant to Gramps.

Henry sipped his coffee and shared a couple of touring yarns.

“Can you tell me about any more of my grandparents’ adventures?” Becki asked.

He glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid they’ll have to wait for another time. I need to get on the road.” He patted his breast pocket, pulled out a pen and jotted a number on a scrap of paper. “Here’s my number if you run into any trouble with the car that your neighbor can’t handle.”

“Thank you.” She stood next to the driveway until he’d driven away, then returned inside and leaned against the closed door. For the first time since she’d arrived, she really absorbed the sight of her beloved grandparents’ home. She inhaled, basking in the distinctive fragrance that was her grandparents’.

But the air smelled a bit stale. From being closed up so long, probably. She meandered from room to room, flinging open windows. The scraped paint on the bottom of the too-low window in the main-floor bathroom reminded her of the time she’d locked the window on her sister, who used to sneak in and out through it. Boy, did she get in trouble that night.

The house phone rang.

Becki hesitated. She didn’t really want to talk to anyone else, especially someone who might not have heard that Gran and Gramps were gone.

She swallowed. More likely it was a telemarketer. Or maybe Mom checking in to make sure she’d arrived safely. Becki let out a puff of air. Yeah, in her dreams.

For most of her life, Mom had dictated what Becki could and couldn’t do, who she could date, what extracurricular activities she could join, what college she should attend, but the instant Becki had the gall to defy her and move into an apartment, Mom had stopped showing any interest in what she did. Which was just one more way to control her.

Drawing in a deep breath, Becki snatched up the phone. “Hello.”

No answer.

She listened for a moment, expecting an automated voice to kick in with a spiel about how she’d won a cruise to a Caribbean island.

“Hello?”

The line clicked off.

How rude. If someone dialed the wrong number, they should at least have the decency to say something. Then again...

The caller might have expected Gran or Gramps to answer and been thrown off by her much younger voice. Next time she’d have to identify herself.

Putting the call out of her mind, she grabbed a box marked Bedroom and meandered upstairs, letting memories whisper through her thoughts.

The same frilly pink curtains adorned the window of the bedroom that she and Sarah had shared the summers they’d visited. Gran’s music box still sat on the nightstand, too.

Becki turned the mechanism, and the strains of “My Favorite Things” filled the room. As the last notes died away, Becki returned the music box to the nightstand and wiped the moisture from her eyes.

Thank goodness Josh wasn’t there to see her sniffle over every knickknack. It was one thing to cry at a funeral. Everyone expected that. But almost a month had passed since her grandparents’ deaths.

She glanced out the window. Across the yard, Hunter stood, scrutinizing the cameras he’d positioned. Josh wasn’t taking any chances on missing her prowler the next time around.

If only he’d been as diligent investigating the cause of Gramps’s headache.

She bit her lip, ashamed by the thought. Logically, she knew her grandparents’ deaths weren’t Josh’s fault. She certainly didn’t blame him. But...

Ever since Anne had told her about Gramps’s headache, Becki couldn’t stop thinking about how differently things could have turned out if only...

She shoved the pointless wish from her mind and unpacked the box she’d carried up. She set her jewelry box and hairbrush on the dresser next to the flip book of Bible promises that had been there for as long as she could remember. The visible page, yellowed and curled at the edges, read, “And we know that all things work together for good to them who love God...”

Becki tossed the book into the empty box and trudged downstairs. Passing the thermostat, she flicked it off.

If the weather hadn’t been so humid the night her grandparents had died, Gran would have had the windows open instead of letting Gramps turn on the air conditioner. The carbon monoxide wouldn’t have had a chance to build up and claim their lives. If God really cared, He would have worked things differently.

Josh’s promise to pray for a new job whispered through her thoughts. How could he be so confident God would answer that prayer when He hadn’t protected Gran and Gramps?

The phone’s ring fractured the silence. She drew in a deep breath, mentally prepared her greeting, then lifted the receiver. “Hello, Graw residence, their granddaughter Becki speaking.”

Again silence greeted her.

“Hello, is anyone there?” She strained to hear any background noise. The faint whirr of traffic maybe. Was Josh calling from the quarry and unable to hear her? “Hello,” she said more loudly.

The line clicked off.

She dialed star sixty-nine to find out who her caller was. The automated computer voice informed her the number was private.

Had the caller deliberately blocked his or her identity?

What if it was the prowler calling to see if anyone was home?

Now he knew who she was!

A knock sounded at the back door. She jumped, sending the phone toppling off the end table. She grabbed the phone and peered around the corner to try to catch a glimpse of who was there.

“Miss Graw? It’s Hunter.”

Her breath whooshed from her chest. Of course. Idiot. The phone call had scrambled her brain. She set down the phone and hurried to the back door. “Sorry, I was—” she waved toward the other room “—on the phone.”

“No problem. I just wanted to let you know the cameras are up and I’m heading out. You can hang on to them as long as you need them.”

“Will do. Thank you so much. Can I get you a coffee or something before you go?”

He tipped his cap, his mouth spreading into an amused grin. “That’s okay. Maybe some other time when Josh is around.” He winked, then strode across the yard back to his SUV.

Great, now he’d think his friend’s new neighbor was a nervous Nellie. Of course, if he was in the habit of always dressing like Rambo, he probably got that reaction a lot. She flipped the dead bolt and returned to her unpacking.

A door upstairs slammed shut, making her jump yet again. It’s just the wind, you ninny. She should probably shut the windows now that she was alone again.

She made quick work of the downstairs ones, then grabbed another box marked Bedroom and climbed the stairs. She wrestled the end room’s window closed first. It opened to a meadow with a stand of trees beyond. Movement in the trees caught her attention. She squinted, hoping to spot a deer and her fawn. She’d have to find Gran’s binoculars.

The phone rang as she reached her grandparents’ bedroom. She snatched up their bedside extension, an old-fashioned rotary dial. “Hello.”

Once again, an ominous silence greeted her.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, stop calling.” She slammed the phone down with a satisfying thwack. If the creep called one more time, she’d have him blocked. There had to be a way for the phone company to do that, even if he was hiding his number. She shut the back windows and was about to move to the front bedrooms when the phone rang again.

If she had a whistle, she’d be tempted to let it blast. She smiled to herself, then puckered up and put her thumb and forefinger between her lips as she lifted the receiver. She didn’t say a thing and when the person on the other end didn’t either, she let loose for a full ten seconds.

After a second’s pause, a voice came on the line. “Bec? Is that you?”

“Josh? Uh, sorry about that. Someone’s been calling here and not saying anything and then hanging up. I figured I’d give him an earful.”

“When? How many times?”

His staccato questions set her pulse racing all over again. “Three times in the last half hour or so. I tried star sixty-nine, but the guy blocked his information.”

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called. If the phone rings again, don’t answer it. When I get there, I’ll get hold of the phone company and have them trace the call.”

Outside, Tripod started barking.

Sure, where was the dog an hour ago when Rambo showed up? “Your dog’s going nuts over something outside.”

“Probably a cat again. Can you see him?”

Becki unwound the phone cord from behind the night table and moved to the window to try and see what had him riled. A noise sounded from downstairs. The dog?

She couldn’t see him from the window. From his barking, it sounded as if he was prancing back and forth along the west wall. She moved toward the bedroom door, straining to hear if the sound had really come from inside.

Another thump sounded.

“Josh,” she whispered, “I think someone’s in the house.”

“Where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

A voice spoke in the background, and then Josh barked orders to send a cruiser to her address. “Help is on the way, Bec. I’m fifteen minutes out.” Through the phone, a siren whirred to life, while at her end, silence reigned.

The dog’s not barking. She clenched the phone to her ear. “Josh, the dog’s not barking!”

“It’s going to be okay. I want you to hide in the bathroom. Lock the door.”

“But I’m on an old plug-in phone, I’d have to hang up.”

“Listen to me. You need to hang up. If the intruder sees a light on the downstairs phone, he’ll know someone’s in the house.”

Her fingers tightened around the receiver at the thought of breaking the connection.

A loud pop and whoosh cracked the silence.

She gasped.

“What is it? What’s going on?” The urgency in Josh’s voice sent her pulse careening.

“A... It sounded like a gunshot. Outside.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the bangers that scare birds from the vineyards across the road?”

Her heart pummeled her ribs as she tugged the phone as far as it would reach and tried to see out the front windows from the hallway. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

A second shot sounded. And a puff of dirt kicked up in the yard.

She dropped to her belly. “No, it’s real. Someone’s shooting at the house!”