Fatal Inheritance Read online

  A bittersweet ache squeezed her heart. She tried to join in on the chorus, but her voice cracked. Josh’s sympathetic glance almost finished her. By sheer willpower, she shifted her mind into Neutral and joined her alto to the array of voices.

  After a few songs, the pastor invited everyone to welcome those standing nearby.

  Mrs. O’Reilly bustled across the aisle and gave Josh’s hand a hearty shake. “Glad to see you’re finally taking my advice.”

  Josh’s lips flattened into the polite smile he used to don whenever his aunt Betsy visited, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.

  She scooped up Becki’s hand with a smile as wide as the Mississippi. “Welcome, welcome!”

  “Thank you,” Becki responded automatically, tugging her gaze from Josh. What was that all about?

  As the woman continued down the row, Becki glanced around, but she didn’t see anything else that might explain Josh’s peculiar reaction. “What advice was she talking about?” Becki whispered close to his ear.

  He shifted in the pew. “Nothing.”

  She arched her brow. “Really, nothing?”

  “Nothing important.”

  “Maybe you should just go with it,” Anne suggested.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Go with what?” Becki asked.

  Ignoring the question, Anne squeezed Josh’s arm. “It’d get those ladies off your back.”

  “It’s only once a week. Pretty sure I can handle it, Anne.”

  “Handle what?” Becki interjected.

  Bart turned her way and smiled again, diverting her attention.

  He really was good-looking. Too bad he had that slick veneer.

  At the feel of Josh’s arm slipping around her shoulders, her heartbeat went wacky. And it didn’t help that he met her puzzled look with that heart-stopping grin.

  “On second thought...” He curled his arm a little more tightly around her and turned back to his sister. “That’s a great idea.”

  “See, I told you.”

  Becki waved her hand in front of them. “Hello? What’s a great idea?”

  “You guys look good together,” Anne added, still focused on Josh.

  Heat rushed to Becki’s face. Then Josh’s warm-as-a-summer-meadow eyes captured her gaze, and her cheeks positively flamed.

  “Oh, yeah.” Anne chuckled. “You guys could totally pull this off.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Becki scrambled to catch up as her heart did crazy pirouettes.

  “Just pretend to be his girlfriend,” Anne whispered, motioning them to sit down again. “We’ll explain later.”

  Be his girlfriend? “Seriously?”

  Josh gave her a squeeze. “Mrs. O’Reilly drives me crazy with her matchmaking ploys. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  A favor? A favor.

  Of course, because the speed with which he’d backed out of her house that morning should have been her first clue to his true feelings. “You’re serious?”

  He gave her a take-pity-on-me look.

  The music swelled, saving her from responding. Only...the song—“The Old Rugged Cross”—was one of Gran’s favorites.

  Becki started to sing, but emotions clogged her throat. By the time they reached “Then He’ll call me someday to my home far away, where His glory forever I’ll share,” tears stung her eyes. If only she could know it was true. That Gran and Gramps...

  She tried to swallow, tried to forget that she still had the sermon to get through.

  Josh reached over and squeezed her hand.

  Blinking rapidly, she clung to it, grateful she didn’t have to bear the loss alone.

  If only the ruse was real.

  SIX

  What had he been thinking? Josh glanced across the seat of the Cadillac at Bec’s far-too-quiet profile. As bad as it sounded, he hoped she was quiet from being emotionally strung out by the service. Not because she was mortified that his sister had wangled her into pretending to be his girlfriend.

  He never should have taken up Anne’s suggestion—in church, no less—but when he’d seen Winslow tossing Bec that oily smile, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  She needed protection from that creep.

  Never mind that his heart had felt two sizes too big when she’d clung to his hand through the service or, Lord help him, that his heart sped up at the way her curls escaped her scarf to dance in the breeze. Josh dragged his attention back to the road. No wonder Winslow had tried to catch her eye. Not that he’d appreciate her other qualities—her faith and an appreciation for simple rural living that seemed so hard to find in a woman these days.

  Josh tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Maybe he should just put an end to the sham now. From her bewildered You’re serious? back in the sanctuary, she’d clearly never thought of him as a potential boyfriend.

  He’d always been a big brother. A big brother infatuated with her older sister. Which, as he recalled, had irritated Bec more than once when she’d wanted him to play in the woods with her and her menagerie of adopted animals. Then again, if he didn’t mention it, the whole thing might be forgotten by next Sunday. It wasn’t as if they had to pretend to be an item when no one was looking.

  The car hit a bump and jostled Bec into his side.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She straightened. “Yeah. Just tired.”

  He gave her a sympathetic glance. She’d tried so hard to contain her grief during the service, but he’d felt her restrained sobs as she clung to his hand.

  He was glad he could be there for her. At least some good had come of their ruse.

  “The first time back is always the hardest,” he said gently. “It’ll get easier each week.”

  Her hands twisted in her lap, and suddenly he feared that she didn’t plan on going back.

  Hopefully, he could change that. “You still up for an afternoon outing?” He’d promised, and he’d keep that promise if she wanted, but he was also eager to follow up on Netherby’s information. Maybe get a look inside the car from the quarry. See if he could find anything more to link it to its owner and Bec’s prowler.

  “I don’t know.” She sounded exhausted.

  Or was she uncomfortable with the idea of spending time alone with him? “You weren’t really interested in Bart Winslow, were you?” Josh pulled into the driveway. “Because I don’t want this O’Reilly ruse to mess up any plans you might have to meet men.”

  She smirked. “Unless the man is Bart, right?”

  “Yeah, except for him,” Josh quipped, then instantly sobered. “He’s the son of the most crooked real-estate broker in the county, and he will stoop to just about anything to help his dear old dad get what he wants.”

  “So he couldn’t possibly be interested in me.” She climbed from the car.

  “I didn’t say that.” Josh shimmied across the seat to climb out, too. “You just need to know that his motives might not be what they seem.”

  She dragged her scarf from her hair and squinted at the sun. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “Moving to Gran and Gramps’s. I’d always felt happy here. Safe. But it’s turning into a nightmare.”

  “We’ll catch this guy, Bec. I promise you.”

  “It’s not just that. My sister is doing everything she can to force me to sell. And now you think this real-estate guy’s going to start harassing me, too.”

  “Let’s not worry about any of that today, okay? We’ll change, grab the picnic basket and the dog, and go for a long ride—enjoy the countryside like your grandparents would have wanted you to.”

  “Yes,” she said, a bit of her enthusiasm returning.

  A patrol car pulle
d to the side of the road in front of the house, and the passenger window opened.

  “Be right back,” Josh said to Bec and then jogged down the driveway. “You see anyone?” he asked Hunter when he got to the car.

  “Afraid I got called away. A camper jackknifed on the highway, caused a pileup.”

  Josh let out a sigh. “All right. Probably was a long shot anyway. But keep up the patrols if you can.”

  “Will do.” Hunter drove off, and Josh turned back to the house.

  The front door stood open. An instant later Bec backed out of the house, her hand splayed over her chest.

  Josh raced toward her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She half turned, her face ashen. “He’s here.”

  * * *

  Becki twisted her scarf between her fingers and searched the windows. “There’s a smell. It’s not right.” The house was supposed to smell like the perfume Gran dotted on her wrists or her grandfather’s Old Spice with maybe a hint of that muscle rub Gran used to massage into his shoulders.

  Not the musky odor that had assaulted her senses.

  Josh immediately positioned himself between her and the door. “You saw someone?”

  “No. I could smell his cologne.”

  Josh whipped out his phone. “I need you back here now,” he barked to the person on the other end. He clipped the phone back onto his belt and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll wait for Hunter.”

  Hunter’s patrol car swung onto the street, its rear end swerving into the opposite lane before righting itself. He parked across the end of the driveway and killed his swirling lights, then jogged toward them. In his uniform, he looked more like a policeman than Rambo, but just as determined. He handed Josh his Taser.

  Josh pulled the house key from the lock and tossed it to Hunter. “You take the back.”

  Becki teetered, but before she could ask what she was supposed to do, Josh grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him. “Stick close.”

  She welcomed his solid, confident grip and stayed right on his heels. In no time, he’d cleared the front of the house and Hunter the rear.

  “Any sign he ran out the back?” Josh asked Hunter.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, I’ll take the upstairs. You take the basement.”

  The instant they stepped into the master bedroom, Becki froze. “He’s here,” she hissed.

  Josh sniffed the air and nodded. He motioned her back then stepped to the side of the closet, his Taser raised.

  Once again, his gaze connected with hers. Stay back, he mouthed, then flung open the closet door.

  No one was inside.

  No one was anywhere in the room or anywhere else upstairs.

  “Are you sure it’s not your grandfather’s aftershave you’re smelling? With the house closed up all morning, you could—”

  “No, Gramps always wore Old Spice.” She picked up the bottle from the highboy and spritzed the air, fighting tears. “I don’t understand. Why’d this guy come in the house if he’s after the car?”

  Josh pried the bottle from her hand and set it back down. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch anything just yet. Can you tell if anything is missing?”

  “Not without touching anything.”

  “Okay, just try to stick to the edges.”

  She jerked into action, checked the drawers, the closet, Gran’s jewelry box, inwardly fuming at the thought of some creep pawing through her grandparents’ belongings. But nothing seemed disturbed, let alone missing.

  She sank onto the edge of her bed and clasped her head. “Why is God letting this happen?”

  Josh hunkered down in front of her. “It’s going to be okay, Bec.”

  “My grandparents were good people.”

  “They were. But God doesn’t promise to spare us from bad circumstances. He only promises to carry us through. You need to trust in Him.”

  She gave her head a violent shake. “How can I trust a God who let a squirrel build a nest in my grandparents’ chimney?”

  Josh smoothed her hair and held her gaze with a shared pain that chiseled cracks in the shell around her heart. “Because He loves you, Bec.”

  She lifted her eyes to the painting on the wall of Jesus cradling a lost lamb —a replica of the church’s window. God cares so much that He comes looking for you when you’re lost, her gran used to say.

  In this house, when Gran and Gramps were alive, she used to be able to believe that.

  “I didn’t imagine that smell,” she whispered, stuffing away thoughts of God. “Someone was here.”

  “Someone was here, all right.” Hunter’s massive frame filled the doorway.

  Josh pushed to his feet. “What did you find?”

  “The main-floor bathroom window was pried open.”

  Becki’s anger exploded. “My sister always snuck into the house that way.”

  “Did you check the cameras?” Josh asked, dismissing her insinuation.

  His teenage infatuation with her sister had obviously colored his judgment. Clearly she was behind this.

  “Yeah,” Hunter said flatly. “They’re dead.”

  “What do you mean, they’re dead?”

  “Someone tampered with them.”

  Not her sister, then. Becki lurched to her feet. This was all too unbelievable. “If the guy knew about the cameras, why wouldn’t he just rip them off?”

  “My guess is that he didn’t want you to know he was here.” Hunter returned her house key. “If I hadn’t checked the cameras closely, I might not have noticed. Would have just figured they weren’t triggered.”

  Josh thrust his fingers through his hair and stared out the window. “So our intruder’s no dummy.”

  Becki looked from Hunter to Josh, her head spinning. “This makes no sense. Yesterday, the guy’s trying to scare me. Today, he doesn’t want me to know he was here? What does he want?”

  “Not sure if yesterday’s incident is connected,” Hunter said. “But this looks to me like someone’s convinced your grandfather made off with those jewels.”

  “Jewels? What jewels?” Becki’s gaze snapped to Josh.

  Just in time to catch him flick his finger in a slicing motion across his throat.

  “What’s he talking about?” she demanded.

  Josh lowered his hand. “Nothing.”

  “I’ll...uh...grab the evidence kit.” Hunter disappeared down the stairs.

  “It’s not nothing,” she ground out, holding on to her patience by a thread. How much more could God possibly throw at her?

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Josh said in the soothing tones she’d heard him use on injured animals.

  “Hunter just called my grandfather a jewel thief!” she said, hearing her own voice edge higher.

  “Now, Becki, Hunter didn’t—”

  “Don’t ‘now, Becki’ me like I’m five years old! And don’t touch me!” She whirled from his grasp.

  * * *

  “Watch out!” Josh shouted as Bec’s heel caught in the hem of her dress.

  She teetered at the top of the stairs, her arms windmilling. He lunged for her but grasped only air.

  Bec pitched down the stairs.

  He vaulted after her.

  Three steps from the bottom, she came to a thudding stop.

  “Are you okay?” He dropped to his knees, his hands immediately roaming her limbs for injuries.

  She swatted him away, a tear leaking from her eye. “This is your fault.”

  He sat back on his heels and let out a breath. She couldn’t be that hurt if she was scolding him. “Bec, I’m sorry. I didn’t believe the incidents could be connected. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” She pushed
to her feet. “Aaah!”

  He caught her by the waist and lifted her weight from her legs. “What is it?”

  “My ankle.” She made a disgusted noise. “It’s okay. I can manage.” She grabbed the handrail and, reaching around him, braced her other hand on the wall as if she intended to hop.

  “Don’t. You’ll only make it worse.” He scooped her into his arms.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She twisted in his hold. “Put me down.”

  He set her on a kitchen chair. “You’re down.” He lifted her injured leg to rest on a second chair and slipped off her shoe. “I’ll get you some ice.”

  “I don’t want ice. I want an answer.”

  He poked around in the freezer, searching for answers as much as ice. The only thing he knew for sure was that with the daggers shooting from Bec’s eyes, Mrs. O’Reilly wouldn’t mistake them for a couple a second time. Not that he cared what Mrs. O’Reilly thought; he just wanted Bec to know she could trust him.

  Josh pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel and gently laid it across her ankle.

  Hunter reappeared with the evidence kit and peered over his shoulder. “What happened?”

  “She fell down the stairs.” Josh had never seen an ankle swell so fast.

  “Looks like you’re going to have to take her to the hospital.”

  Bec folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere until I get answers. Why would anyone think my grandparents stole jewels?”

  Hunter hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll check that bathroom window for fingerprints.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” For nothing. Josh sank into a chair opposite Bec. “Some valuable jewelry was stolen from a museum during your grandparents’ last tour.”

  “You can’t possibly think they’d have anything to do with that.”

  “No, I don’t. But when the police learned that your grandparents had left the tour early, they became suspicious. Only—” A lump caught in his throat as he whispered, “It was too late to question them.”

  She went white. “You think they were murdered?”

  “No.” Josh stroked the hair from her face, needing to touch her, draw her back. “No, Bec. Your grandparents’ deaths were an accident. Believe me, that’s the first thing I triple-checked.”