LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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