Fatal Inheritance. Sandra Orchard
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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