As the story progressed, Belle found herself sympathetic to the guerilla. Despite the camouflage face paint, he did have nice bone structure, startling white teeth, and most importantly, dearly loved his new wife. When the soap finally came to a close with sweeping, symphonic music, she had to wipe away a tear. Once again, this was proof there were people in the world with problems worse than hers.
Belle wondered if there might be another soap to follow, but was disappointed to find a game show on the schedule instead. Oh, well. She watched, solved several puzzles, and won the grand prize to the tune of a million dollars. Too bad she couldn’t collect, she thought.
She watched several other programs and realized it was now early evening. When her stomach growled midway through a made-for-TV movie, she realized she was famished. Understandable, since she’d skipped lunch.
She rose from the couch, stretched, but her eyes remained fixed on the screen. When a commercial came on, she took the opportunity to dash into the kitchen to grab a TV dinner. She popped it into the microwave, set the timer, and hurried back into the living room.
With great relief, she noted the TV was still on a commercial. She stood poised in front of the set, not wanting to miss a second of the movie, but fearing the microwave timer would beep too late. When a second commercial came on, followed by a third, she practically cheered. She startled when the microwave timer did sound off and she dashed into the kitchen.
She grabbed a plate out of the cupboard, a fork from the drawer, and hurriedly stabbed the TV dinner and slid it onto the plate. She made it back to the living room just as the movie resumed.
She ate, eyes fixed on the screen. Suddenly, she realized she was thirsty, but her thirst would have to wait until the next commercial. But when the next commercial came, she began channel surfing, returning to the same one time and again to check if the movie was back on. Finally, it resumed playing, and when the credits finally rolled down the screen, Belle sighed with satisfaction. It had been a great movie.
She glanced at a clock on the mantel. It was already close to seven-thirty! Where had the time gone? She grinned suddenly. Up until today, her vacation hours had dragged. She realized she had perhaps found the magic bullet for passing the time. The magic of television.
She settled in, watched the tail end of a game show, and then searched the television guide to see what prime time programming held in store for her. Her eyes widened with pleasure. An adaptation of a Stephen King novel was slated to start at eight ‘o clock. She realized she had just enough time to grab a quick shower, slip into her comfy pjs and slippers, and settle in for the evening.
She readied in record time and entered her living room just as the movie began. She dropped onto the couch, grabbed a throw pillow to hold onto during the scary scenes, and settled back for a frightening ride. She wasn’t disappointed. Wide-eyed, she watched the screen, nearly jumping out of her skin on several occasions. When her doorbell rang around nine o’clock, she actually let out a high-pitched scream.
Suddenly, her front door burst open. Dare charged into her house, followed by Lacey and Steven. “Belle, are you all right?” Dare asked, eyes wide with concern.
Belle glanced up, surprised to see her friends tumble into the room. “Hi,” she said numbly, and then glanced back to the TV. Thankfully, it was on a commercial now. She turned back to her friends, her brows knitted into a frown.
“Belle, are you all right?” Lacey asked fearfully.
“I’m fine. Why?
“We heard you scream.”
“I screamed?” she asked, perplexed.
“You screamed,” Steven confirmed.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, then glanced back at the screen. With relief, she realized it was still on a commercial. She glanced back at Lacey. “Must have been during a scary part of the movie,” she acknowledged distractedly.
When the movie came back on, she turned away from her friends as if pulled by an invisible string. She missed the chagrined glances they sent one another.
Suddenly, Steven’s face loomed in front of her face. “Earth to Belle.”
She waved him away, but suddenly, his hand was suspended in front of her eyes. Vaguely she registered his snapping fingers. She slapped them away and leaned around him to see the screen, and nearly fell off the couch.
“Oh, man,” Steven said. “Now she’s in a TV induced trance.”
“Belle, have you been sitting here all day?” Lacey demanded in frustration.
“Huh?”
“Have you been sitting here all day?” Steven repeated.
“Oh, uh, no. Not all day. Steven, move!” She clutched the pillow to her chest. Oh, this was a scary part of the movie.
“Belle, we came by to see if you wanted to go out to Shoreline Restaurant for seafood. We thought you could use a night out,” Dare said, watching her curiously, though she didn’t notice.
“I’m already in my pajamas,” she muttered absently, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Thanks anyway.”
“Belle, turn the TV off,” Lacey said in measured tones. When she made no move to turn it off, Lacey started toward the set.
“Don’t touch the TV!” Belle shrieked. “This is the best part!”
“Belle,” she heard Dare’s smooth voice, “have you been sitting here all afternoon and evening?”
She ignored the question—hadn’t somebody already asked her that—and instead clutched the pillow tighter against her chest. If her friends weren’t so annoying and distracting, she’d have probably been glad for the company. This was indeed a scary movie.
“Belle?” Dare persisted.
“Shhh. This is the best part.”
“Belle, we need to talk,” Lacey said.
“When the movie’s over,” she snapped. “Quiet! This is the best part.”
“I don’t think we should leave her alone,” Lacey said tiredly. “Who wants a soda?”
“I do,” Belle murmured.
Lacey threw her hands in the air and flounced into the kitchen. Steven dropped into the rocking chair, and Dare joined Belle on the couch. She hardly noticed him until he nudged her with his elbow. “Is that the best part?” he asked, pointing to the screen.
“Yeah.”
He chuckled, and she wasn’t sure why. She shot him an annoyed glance before turning her attention to the movie again. Stephen King could certainly weave a tale of terror, she decided. When a commercial came on again, she relaxed contentedly against the plush cushions of the couch. “I’d give a million dollars to spend even a few moments in Stephen King’s head,” she mused aloud, to no one in particular.
“My guess is you’d feel right at home,” Lacey said with a frustrated shake of her head as she stepped into the room carrying sodas. She passed them around.
Belle took hers, but didn’t open the can. Dare gently took the can from her and popped open the top, before returning it to her.
“Oh, it’s back on. Quiet!” she said.
Dare glanced at her, and then back to the television screen. He shook his head. He decided then and there that Belle was incapable of doing anything halfway. He’d never seen anyone as enthralled by a television program. The woman certainly needed balance in her life. Maybe, just maybe, he was the man to give it to her.
As the movie neared its frightening conclusion, he realized she had inched closer to him with each new onscreen terror. When she clutched his arm, holding onto him tightly, he calmly disengaged her hand, and then draped his arm over her shoulder. She didn’t protest, but instead leaned into him. He pulled her closer and she didn’t seem to notice. He, however, noticed the floral fragrance of her shampoo, the soft scent of her soap, and how her feminine curves seem to fit against him perfectly.
When moments later, the movie ended, she suddenly seemed to register that she was currently, for all intents and purposes, in Dare’s arms. She pulled back in surprise, her eyes wide with shock. “Sorry,” she told him. “I guess the movie scared me more than I realized…”
“Hey,” he said with a shrug, “It’s not a problem. Not a problem at all.”
.
Chapter Thirteen
Belle spent the better part of Saturday on her computer, turning up all manner of information about Jacob Biggs. Although she had promised Dare she would stay off of the computer Friday, she’d made no such promise for Saturday.
She learned Biggs was a developer with a philanthropic sense, and beloved in the community. She read an article about him that spoke to his desire to improve the lives of those less fortunate by building well-planned and well-appointed low income apartments. His aim, he explained, was to construct homes people could be proud of.
As she scanned article after article, she found nothing to suggest he was anything but a reputable businessman. As she reviewed pictures of and plans for his apartment complexes, she found none that even remotely resembled the huge, grey monstrosity with the myriad defects Belle had visited with Dare.
She clicked on a newspaper article written about Biggs about two years before. A picture of him flashed onto the screen. He stood in front of one of his apartment complexes with scissors in hand, ready to cut a ribbon.
Belle leaned forward to study the photograph. Biggs was surrounded by several people, including the mayor and the chief of police. But one man caught her eye. Standing just behind him and to the left was a younger version of him. Whereas the older version had gray hair, the younger man had crisp, dark hair. But there was no mistaking the family resemblance.
She quickly scanned the article, finally finding what she was searching for. The younger man was Biggs’ son, Jacob Biggs Jr.
As Belle continued reading, she hit pay dirt. In a paragraph near the bottom of the article, the younger Biggs had been quoted as saying he was proud to be following in his father’s footsteps. He noted plans were in place for him to oversee the construction of a much larger complex than any his father had built to date. The complex—Elm Place.
She gasped, her heart pumping with anticipation as she read on. Jacob Biggs Jr. reported construction of the complex would begin the following week. It was then Belle remembered something she’d read in an earlier article. Had she printed a copy?
She thumbed through a stack of printed material and her eyes lighted on the article. She quickly scanned it. Yes, she had remembered correctly. The senior Mr. Biggs had been out of the country for nearly a year, assisting a humanitarian group building houses in a far off county. Much of the construction of Elm Place had taken place during his absence.
She sagged against her chair. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together.
She simply had to call Dare to fill him in. She reached for the telephone, but remembered she didn’t have his phone number. She placed a quick call to Lacey’s home, but her friend didn’t answer. If Lacey was gone, Steven was likely with her. She tried her cell phone next, to no avail.
She made a quick decision to take a drive over to Dare’s place. She called the dogs onto the porch and locked the screen door behind them. She hurried back into her office to scoop up the articles she had copied, and then climbed into her car and drove to his house.
She pulled into the driveway, surprised to see he’d spiffed up the old Madson place in seemingly record time. A cottage like her home, the house had been neglected for several years. Belle recalled it had been encased in vines the last time she’d walked past it, but today the front exterior was free of plants, and boasted a gleaming white paint job. She especially liked the door, which he had painted a bold red. While the house had been an eyesore before, it certainly didn’t lack curb appeal now.
Belle grabbed her purse and the stack of papers and jogged to Dare’s door. She’d no sooner raised her hand to ring the bell when the door flung open. He was about to step across the threshold. His eyes registered surprise at seeing her. “Hello, Belle.”
“Hi. Hey, do you have a minute? I’d like to show you something. Well, several things,” she admitted with a rueful chuckle.
“Oh, uh…” He glanced behind him. Belle immediately spotted a young woman standing just behind him. The statuesque brunette stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hi,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’m Bianca.”
“Hello,” Belle said in response. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It looks like you two were just leaving. I’ll just … go.”
She turned to leave, when Dare took a hold of her arm. “Just a minute, Belle. Bianca, could you give me just a moment?”
“Certainly. Nice to have met you, Belle.”
“Yes. You, too.”
Dare caught Belle’s gaze. “What do you have there?” he asked, indicating with a nod the stack of papers in her hands.
“Oh, I think I may have found some information relevant to our case. But, I can show you another time. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”
“Don’t worry about it. You haven’t interrupted anything. I suppose you managed to discover that J. Biggs has a son of the same name and that he’s the developer of the Elm Place complex.”
“So you already know,” she said, failing to mask her disappointment.
He nodded. “This morning, I got to thinking that the elder Biggs had really stepped up to the plate with respect to the problems at the apartment complex, yet, as you and I agreed yesterday, his newest construction project was a far cry from anything he’s built in the past. And, if he didn’t build the complex, why is he so accommodating? It occurred to me he might be covering up for someone. I figured a son or daughter, or a nephew maybe. And then the son thing panned out.”
She nodded. “That was good thinking. Okay, I’ll get out of your hair. I really am sorry to have disturbed you since … you have company.”
“Really, it’s not a problem. Bianca’s a good friend—has been for years. She decided to surprise me with a weekend visit.”
She nodded, but couldn’t help wondering if the gorgeous brunette was his girlfriend, or perhaps had been at some point. Maybe he had moved back to his hometown to escape the memories of a failed romance. Perhaps the towering beauty had come to town to win him back. Her mind wandered as she crafted scenario after scenario. And then she wondered, what the heck was she doing? It was none of her business.
She smiled tightly. “I’ll see you later.” She turned to go, but spun back around when a thought occurred to her. Surely if Dare had a weekend visitor, their beach trip was off.
He raised he brows questioningly. “Was there something else?”
“The uh, beach trip. Since you have a guest, I’m thinking…”
“I’m not canceling,” he said with a wide grin. “Don’t even think about trying to get out of it. I’ve already explained to Bianca I have plans, and that she’ll have to find something to do for the day. Isn’t that right, Bianca?” he called into the house.
“Whatever you say, lovie,” the woman crooned. “If you must abandon me, then you must,” she said in a sing song voice. “Though I may never, ever forgive you.”
Dare sent a startled, quizzical glance in the woman’s direction, seemingly taken aback by the term of endearment. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Belle heard the woman’s breathy chuckle, and noted Dare sent a withering look her way.
He turned back to Belle, and smiled with obvious discomfiture. He smoothed a hand through his hair. “Bianca’s just trying to shake me up. Don’t pay any attention to her. We have a history.” Suddenly his eyes widened. “I mean, not the kind of history you may be thinking…” He sighed heavily. “I’ll …uh, pick you up at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow.”
She nodded, though she’d have preferred he cancel, for so many reasons. She turned to go again, but he stopped her with a question.
“Hey, did you manage to sleep last night?”
Had he noticed the dark circles under her eyes? “Not very well,” she admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve watched television. And it’s been even longer since I’ve watched a scary movie,” she admitted ruef
ully.
“You were definitely into it,” he observed with a chuckle.
She laughed self-consciously. “I’d considered making television watching my new hobby—you’d be amazed at how quickly the time passed yesterday—but I’m afraid I’m liable to become a couch potato. I hate to admit it, but I actually forgot to feed the dogs and kitten their dinner last night since I was so engrossed in primetime programming. I’ve never forgotten my animals before. That can’t be good, can it?”
Dare winced. “I’d steer clear of the set.”
“Are you sure about tomorrow?” she said. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings if you cancel.”
“Really? Your feelings won’t be hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Well, now my feelings are hurt.” He grinned. “Nice try. But didn’t Millicent suggest you take a trip to the sandy shore and kick up your heels a bit?”
And then it hit her. He was simply part of her boss and co-workers’ campaign to assure she had some down time. He’d signed on to baby-sit her for part of the weekend. It was as simple as that.
When she drove home moments later and found Lacey and Steven waiting on her front porch, she knew the twosome were her Saturday sitters. Good grief, she moaned. Was she that pathetic?
***
“Where were you?” Lacey demanded. “We’ve been sitting here for…”
“Ten, fifteen minutes tops,” Belle said ruefully. “I stopped by Dare’s house for a few minutes.”
“You went to Dare’s place? Really? Why?”
“Case-related,” she said simply.
“Right,” Lacey said suspiciously and Belle shot her a withering glance. “Okay, why’d you call earlier?”
Belle shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you on my caller ID, and then on my cell phone. We thought something might be wrong, so we headed over.”
“Why didn’t you answer your phones then?”
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