Sandra Orchard - Fatal Inheritance

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 delicate than those of the freckled tomboy she’d been the last time he’d found her hiding in this barn. He tugged her to her feet. “I saw the barn door open and—”

She swayed and clutched her head.

“What’s wrong?” He directed his flashlight beam toward her face.

Shielding her eyes, she leaned back against the tractor tire with a moan and soothed her swollen lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “Someone hit me.”

“Hit you?” Apparently that car he’d seen hightail it out of the farmer’s lane a minute ago hadn’t been just a couple of teens looking for a place to park as he’d supposed. He scanned her head for signs of trauma. “Are you okay?”

She pushed his light away. “I will be when you get that out of my eyes.”

Josh redirected his flashlight to the floor.

A four-foot length of timber lay on the ground a few feet away.

“Did you see who hit you?”

“I just saw a shadowy figure.”

“Tall? Short? Fat? Skinny?”

“I don’t know.” Bec clutched her head again. “Your average-size shadow.”

He needed to get her inside and check her over properly. Irritability could be a sign of a concussion. He quickly swept his flashlight in widening circles. “Why’d you come in here in the dark?”

“I heard cats meowing and hoped to find kittens.”

Of course. Same old Becki.

She stepped past him and stroked the hood of her grandfather’s old Cadillac. “Then I saw Gramps’s car.”

At the emotion in her voice, Josh’s breath hitched. Her grandfather had had a way of making troubles seem not so bad. The hours he and Josh had spent together tinkering on the “old gal” had been a lifeline after his mother had up and left Serenity without so much as a backward glance. But he couldn’t help Josh through this loss.

Josh forced his mind back to the present, to his police training. “Did you hear or see anything that could help us identify who hit you?”

She started to shake her head, then winced.

Josh resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders and instead directed his flashlight at the items a thief might have been after. Nothing appeared to be missing, but he couldn’t be sure until daylight.

Misty twined herself around his legs, purring. He lifted her into his arms and scratched her chin. “I guess you’re looking for your supper, huh?” He turned to Bec, remembering how much she’d adored the cats as a kid. “I’ve been feeding them since your grandparents...” He lowered Misty to the ground and let the explanation trail off rather than dredge up her loss. He pointed his flashlight at a box beneath the car. “The kittens are under there.”

Her delighted squeal tugged a grin to his lips—his first since finding her grandparents’ lifeless bodies.

He tugged the box out from under the car.

Bec sat cross-legged on the floor and gathered the kittens into her arms.

Josh chuckled. She hadn’t changed a bit. For all her tomboy ways, she was still a soft touch. He gave Misty fresh food and water and then looked around as best he could without leaving Bec in total darkness. If only the barn had overhead lighting, he might find some clue as to who she’d surprised. Most likely kids out for a lark. He hadn’t recognized the car he’d spotted as belonging to any of their usual troublemakers. He wished he’d gotten the license plate number.

Josh let his gaze settle back on Bec. Seeing her delight in the wiggling kittens, he could almost feel the years strip away to when they were both kids and life was carefree.

She winced, her forehead creasing.

“Hey, we’d better get you inside. Take a look at that bump. You might need to see a doctor.”

A frown curved her lips, but she returned the kittens to the box and pushed it back under the car, which told him more than words would how lousy she felt. When she was a kid, not even promises of chocolate cake and ice cream had been incentive enough to drag her away from the squirming fur balls.