Fatal Inheritance. Sandra Orchard
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jolted at the cold, black words. Who—
She crushed the note in her fist. Sarah. Becki floored the gas and veered into the driveway, then punched her sister’s number on her cell phone.
Sarah answered on the first ring.
“You’ve sunk to new lows,” Becki fumed.
“I warned you I’d go to the lawyer if you didn’t agree to sell and split everything fifty-fifty. You should’ve listened to me.”
Becki ground to a stop in front of the white two-story willed to her by Gran and Gramps. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t left her sister anything. She’d gotten most of the liquid assets, not to mention all the financial help when her husband was in law school. Even if Becki sold the house, Sarah probably wouldn’t come out that much further ahead.
While Becki would lose the only place that had ever felt like home.
She looked at the darkened windows and empty porch and swallowed a rush of grief. “I’m talking about the note.”
“What note? I didn’t send any note.”
“Right. Because people are lining up to scare me out of here.”
To think she’d once idolized her beautiful older sister. No more. At twenty-seven, Becki could finally see Sarah for who she really was—a spoiled trophy wife as materialistic and money-grubbing as her flashy lawyer husband. “Gran and Gramps wanted this house to stay in the family, and I’m here to stay whether you like it or not.” Becki punched the power button and jumped from her packed-to-the-roof car.
Inhaling the sweet scent of summer in Ontario’s farm country, she shoved Sarah’s threats from her mind and turned to the home she loved so dearly.
If only the carbon-monoxide detector had worked the way it was supposed to, Gran and Gramps would be bustling outside to wrap her in their arms this very moment.
Becki scrunched her eyes closed as memories flooded her mind. Swinging from the barn loft into a pile of hay. Fishing in the creek with Gramps. Collecting fragrant bouquets of bouncing bets for Gran. Her summers here had been her happiest. More than once she’d begged to be allowed to live here always.
But not like this—not without them. She pressed her arm against the ache in her chest.
The sun dipped behind the trees with a splash of brilliant reds and purples as if Gramps himself was painting a welcome-home banner across the sky.
I can do this. I want to do this.
Let Sarah call her crazy for quitting her admin job and giving up the lease on her apartment. So what if she’d never find a husband in the boonies? Maybe she didn’t want one. If Sarah’s and Mom’s unhappy marriage experiences were anything to go by, she was better off single.
Besides, Sarah didn’t really care whether Becki found a husband or a decent job in Serenity. All she cared about was squeezing more inheritance out of their grandparents’ estate.
Indignant-sounding meows drifted from the weathered hipped-roof barn behind the house.
Kittens! Memories of laughter-filled afternoons playing with each summer’s new litter propelled her feet toward the barn. The light was fading fast, but from the way Mama Cat carried on, Becki would have no trouble finding them.
The meowing stopped.
She hurried past the enormous sliding door and pushed through the regular door next to it.
A flight of barn swallows swooped out a hole in the roof.
She paused while her eyes adjusted to the dim light slanting through the gaps in the weathered boards.
A yowl sounded from the back of the barn, but instead of a cat, her gaze lit on Gramps’s 1913 Cadillac. Oh, wow! How could she have forgotten about Gramps’s antique in here?
She drew in a deep breath. Now it was hers, along with everything else at the farm.
Sadness gripped her. Riding in the old car wouldn’t be the same without Gramps at the wheel. She just wanted her grandparents back.
She picked her way around the farm implements, her gaze tracking to the car every few seconds. How she’d loved riding with Gran and Gramps, all dressed up in old-fashioned clothes, to the church’s anniversary Sunday celebration.
Becki danced her fingers over the hood and marveled at how little dust coated it even after all these weeks. Gramps had always taken such pride in keeping it polished.
A soft mew whispered from the shadows.
Grateful for the distraction, Becki rounded the car. “Here, kitty.”
A thunk sounded behind her.
Heart pounding, she whirled on her heel.
A puff of dust floated up from around a block of wood on the floor.
She peered up at the hayloft, thinking a cat must have knocked it down. The dust and smell of moldy hay scratched her lungs.
Movement flashed in her peripheral vision. Something big. Much bigger than a cat.
She ducked behind an upturned wheelbarrow and squinted into the shadows. “Hello.” She took a deep breath, forced her voice louder. “Anyone there?”
A faint echo taunted her.
She strained to listen for movement, but she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood pulsing past her ears. She edged around the wheelbarrow and scanned the other direction.
Something shuffled behind her.
She spun toward the sound. “Who’s there?”
A figure lunged out of the shadows, swinging a hunk of wood.
She thrust up her arms.
The wood glanced off and slammed into the side of her head.
White light exploded in her vision. She dropped to her knees, tasting blood. The ground rushed toward her.
Swishing whispered past her ears as blackness swallowed her.
* * *
Becki gripped her pounding head. What happened?
She opened one eye. The sight of a strange, shadowy room jerked her fully awake. Unfamiliar smells assaulted her. Dirt. And...
She froze. Now she remembered. Gramps’s barn. Someone had hit her.
She lifted her head a few inches and waited for the ringing in her ears to subside. She rolled onto her back and peered up at the loft. Was that where he’d been hiding?
Out of nowhere a beam of light flashed over the hood of the car.
She swallowed a scream.
The beam jigged across the barn wall, casting ghoulish shadows.
Hide. She had to hide. Pain rocketed through her head the instant she tried to rise. Gritting her teeth, she dragged herself away from the car—the first place he’d look. Only...why’d he leave, then come back?
She shrank behind an old tractor tire. The reason couldn’t be good.
* * *
“Bec? You in here?” Joshua Rayne called into his neighbor’s barn.
A gasp came from somewhere in the shadows.
He rushed forward. “Bec?”
“Over here.”
Josh jerked his flashlight beam toward the tentative response. Bec sat huddled behind a tractor tire, her face chalky-white.
Lowering the beam, he hurried to her. “What happened? Why are you hiding back here?”
“You scared me.”
His heart kicked at the crack in her voice. “I’m sorry.” He clasped her hand. Her fingers were far more