by Amy Saunders
When it was all said, she gripped her purse handles, waiting for his verdict. "I'm sorry to bother you with this. But I didn't know who else to talk to."
He seemed to be concentrating on a bumblebee hovering over one of the sunflowers when he snapped back to her. "You're not bothering me." His face was dark, like a cloud passing across the sun. "I'll find out what's going on."
"What should I do?"
"Nothing right now. Don't tell anyone about this. And call me if anything else happens."
She nodded vigorously. "Believe me, I will." He still seemed perturbed. "Is there something else?"
"No." He forced a small smile. "Well, yes. I'm worried about you. I'm trying to protect you, but I'm worried that–" he stopped himself. "I'm worried that you're too wrapped up in everything already."
Belinda doubted that's what he'd started to say, but he was exiting the conversation, taking small steps backward.
"I need to go," he said. "I want to get on this immediately."
"Of course. Bennett–" she grabbed his sleeve as he turned away. "Thank you." There were a lot of other things that could have slipped off her tongue at that moment, but she sensed it wasn't the right time, so she left it at that.
His face lightened again, and he retracted his arm so their hands slipped together briefly. Then he marched across the nursery, the white stones crunching beneath his feet.
Belinda stared listlessly at the flowers, hoping she had made the right choice in telling him. Well, she knew she'd made the right choice for her. But would it just cause problems for him? The whole point of hiring an assistant was to lighten the load. So far, hiring Brooke as her PA had only complicated her entire life.
She gathered her wits enough to purchase a couple of potted plants and went back home. There was still plenty to work on before her grand opening, but she didn't feel like doing any of it. Probably an hour later, while arranging the new plants by the door, her phone did its song and dance with a picture of Jonas flashing a big troublemaker smile. Her stomach flip-flopped. Did he know about her and Mrs. Sykes? She brushed the soil off her hands and smiled before answering, hoping it would translate into her voice. "Hello?"
"I'm not sure how to tell you this." Not the greatest start to a conversation. Especially with a homicide detective. And it only made her more anxious though she figured if they knew about all that, he'd be there in person right then. To arrest her. "We were looking for your assistant, Brooke. I can fill you in later. But, well, we found her."
Sensing something unpleasant about to come out of his mouth next, Belinda leaned against the house. She almost didn't want to ask the obvious next question, but he wasn't volunteering to answer it. "Where is she?"
"At Bennett's." Jonas paused. "She's dead."
Chapter 22
Belinda didn't think. She hung up before Jonas said good-bye and grabbed her keys. While she drove, thoughts flitted through her head. Brooke. Dead. At Bennett's.
At Bennett's?
Belinda parked down the street from the hubbub around Bennett's house and walked the rest, waving her arms to get Jonas' attention. She could just make out his light brown hair between two uniformed officers. She was so consumed by the number of people around the scene that she didn't notice someone else she knew standing right there.
"What are you doing here?"
Belinda jumped, realizing Bennett was standing right next to her. "What are you doing here?" she echoed.
Bennett blinked. "It's my house."
"Right. Well, Jonas called to tell me what happened, so I just came." Belinda searched his face. His expression was vacant, but not in its usual neutral way. It was truly vacant, like he was in some sort of shock. "Are you okay?" She took a step closer. Bennett's gray eyes refocused. In that short span of time, they'd drifted away, getting all glassy.
"I'm fine." He sounded convinced, but Belinda wasn't.
Jonas ducked under the yellow tape around the house, smiling grimly. "You didn't have to come."
Belinda ignored him. She was there. It was too late. "What happened?" Bennett's eyes came back to her for a moment.
Jonas heaved a deep sigh. That wasn't like him and it worried Belinda. "Bennett was gone for a while, and when he got home, she was dead."
He was gone for a while. And Belinda knew where. Bennett was with her at the nursery, getting bombarded with her kidnapping problems. Belinda inhaled deeply, taking another good look at Bennett. His cheeks looked like paste. "Why was she here?" she asked carefully. It was a question she wasn't entirely convinced she wanted an answer to.
"I told her I'd help her." Bennett's voice sounded empty, like eye sockets on a skeleton. "Brooke came to me with a little problem."
Belinda could feel her cheeks start to flush as her heart rate increased. He'd done something to help her.
Jonas' eyes had lost the lingering amusement Belinda was used to seeing. They were just angry. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I already told you. I was protecting her." Bennett's eyes flickered over to Belinda before he finished his sentence.
Guilt stabbed her. He knew. He knew before the conversation at the nursery. Why didn't she think about that? He even told Belinda he'd been watching her all that time. Of course he knew she helped Brooke! And he'd done something to try and protect her.
"Well, you didn't protect her." Jonas spat. "She's dead!"
Bennett flinched. His eyes darted to Belinda briefly and then back to the pavement. He looked...defeated.
Belinda hugged her body, her legs feeling weighed down to the spot.
Jonas ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes..." He reached behind his back, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from under his jacket.
Belinda watched in horror as Jonas cuffed Bennett. "What...what are you doing?"
Jonas looked at her sadly. It was killing him, she could see it. "Brooke was a suspect in a murder investigation. Bennett knowingly helped her hide and lied to the police—me—about it." He sounded hurt. "And he's our only suspect right now."
She was afraid if she tried to walk, she'd fall flat on the sidewalk, but she forced her legs to carry her and follow them to the patrol car. The truth could fix this. It could. "Jonas, I have something–"
Bennett turned to her sharply. "Stay out of this, Belinda."
Belinda blinked furiously and bit down on her bottom lip as Jonas helped Bennett into the backseat. She could feel the tears slipping out despite her best efforts, and she wanted to run all the way back home, but she could only stand there and watch as the police car pulled slowly away from the curb. An arm slipped around her, and she turned her face away, leaning against Jonas' shoulder as she full-blown cried right there on the side of the road. Things couldn't possibly get worse.
Of course, she knew good and well, they could.
~ * ~
Bennett had just fallen on the sword for her. For her.
Jonas made her go home as soon as she'd calmed down enough to drive. But Belinda couldn't sit still or think straight until she did something to help Bennett. The best thing she could think of was to start at Bennett's house. Maybe she'd find something there. Something that could help him.
After dark when Belinda felt it was pretty much safe to do so, she drove back to Bennett's, quiet and untouched once again, except for the yellow tape blowing around the front door. She parked on the street and went in through the garage—the cleanest one she'd ever laid eyes on. Bennett's hulking black SUV sat all alone on one side, and he'd already pulled out his kayak, which sat waiting for use on the back worktable.
She unlocked the inside garage door, stepping into a dark, and rather eerie, kitchen. Automatically, she started to flick on a light, but stopped herself. She'd tossed a mini flashlight in her purse, but she didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to the house with light. It was easy enough to see in the kitchen between the one streetlight nearby and the moon.
The body was gone of course, but it still felt like someone had died in there. She'
d nagged Jonas until he told her Brooke was strangled to death. Belinda shivered. She could practically see Brooke's dead body sprawled out on the floor. Could Mrs. Sykes have managed to strangle Brooke? She had no idea what had become of her in all this. Had Mrs. Sykes managed to break out of the boat and flee?
She thought about her own scuffle with Mrs. Sykes at the inn. The woman was no pushover, but she wasn't as strong either, and only got the best of Belinda because of her three-inch heels. Brooke seemed very alert and savvy the day of the kidnapping. She was young, and obviously not as clueless as she liked everyone to think. If Mrs. Sykes did strangle her, she must have caught her off guard. Asleep or something. If Brooke was awake and at attention, Belinda had trouble imagining Mrs. Sykes managing to overpower her.
If not Mrs. Sykes, who? How had the murderer found her here and then gotten inside and killed her? When Bennett said he was protecting Brooke, Belinda knew he meant it. He took nothing lightly, and if he thought she was about to be killed, he would've spared nothing to prevent it. And Bennett was smart and good at sneaking around. How on earth did Brooke die under his nose in his house? She had to find out what happened for his sake.
Belinda wandered into the living room, which was a mess. Apparently, Brooke had fought her killer, but it also looked like the killer might have been searching for something. Now that she looked, many of the kitchen cabinets were open too.
She started picking up the living room, replacing the cushions on the couch and throw pillows. Putting his movies and music back—in order—on the media shelf. And closing the bottom doors below the TV where he kept his video game system and extra cables and odds and ends. So precise, just like him.
Belinda wrangled an unattached RCA cable back into the box he kept them in, trying to keep the order of the rest in the process. You know what this needed? Twisty ties. She was surprised the man of endless resourcefulness hadn't done so. Belinda pulled up to look for some in the kitchen, fishing around his junk drawer, which was actually kind of a mess for him. She found a sheet of unused ties—and an inn key card. But not Portside Inn this time. It was a different inn Belinda couldn't match to anyone she knew. Using a shirtsleeve so as not to taint anything, Belinda picked it up. On the reverse side, a small silver key was taped to it with a number in marker on the tape. The kind of key that might open, let's say, a suitcase.
Her mind rewound to the suitcase in Sawyer's room that had disappeared. Is this what the killer was looking for? Well, he or she didn't find it. If there was even the slimmest chance of this helping, Belinda was taking it.
She tucked it away in her purse and headed for the police station to bail Bennett out. Belinda didn't know what was in that suitcase, but it was time to find out.
Bennett scowled when he saw her. "I told you–"
Belinda sandwiched his face in her hands and kissed him. And nothing passive that could be misconstrued. She took a cue from Sawyer and Brooke and let him have it. And it only took a millisecond for him to reciprocate.
"I'm done being mad at you," she said. "And unless you want me to throw you back in there and use my good name to keep you here, you're done being mad at me too."
Belinda knew he'd be growly and snagged a leftover cupcake from their trial runs at the house before heading over to the station. He tried his very best to hold the snarl but it lessened when she held out the box holding the chocolate, peanut-buttery cloud of goodness.
Bennett rested his forehead against hers. "If I say yes, can I eat the cupcake?"
Belinda grinned. "If you say yes, you can eat a truck full of cupcakes. But you have to agree to one more condition."
Bennett glanced at the cupcake so alone in the box. "Yes?"
"You have to let me help you and communicate what you're doing for my benefit from now on."
"That's two conditions."
Belinda slanted her eyes. "Do you want the cupcake or not?"
Bennett's lip curled up and his gray eyes shined ever so slightly. "Believe me, I want the cupcake."
Belinda's eyes sparkled. "Then just sign on the dotted line."
Chapter 23
Bennett drove Belinda's car because his was still at home, pulling up next to the sidewalk at the inn. After getting him out of jail, Belinda explained how she found the key card and key in his junk drawer, so they followed the bread crumbs as soon as they left the station.
It looked quiet inside the inn, lights glowing from the upstairs windows. Belinda wondered what name Brooke used for the room. If this was her doing. But Belinda felt certain it was.
She slowly became aware of Bennett watching her. She had so many things she wanted to say. "Bennett. You didn't have to...I'll tell Jonas what really happened–"
He pressed his finger to her lips. "You will do no such thing. Promise me." His eyes were fierce.
Belinda swallowed. "But–"
"Promise."
"I promise," she whispered.
"Did you tell anyone else?"
Belinda shook her head. "Only Vix."
"You can't talk about this ever again. Understand? To anyone. It never happened."
"But you–"
"It never happened." His eyes left no room for more discussion, so she dropped it.
"How did you know?"
"Tailing you, remember?"
Belinda nodded, her eyes tearing up. She sniffled. "What happened to Mrs. Sykes?"
"I wish I knew." He reached out, caressing the spot on her neck where she'd been stabbed with the needle. "Brooke was dead, and she was gone when I got back from the garden nursery."
That wasn't good. Not for her, or any of them.
"Do you think she killed Brooke?"
"Not really."
"Did you mention Mrs. Sykes to Jonas?"
Bennett hesitated. "No. Far as he's concerned she's just MIA since your run-in with her."
That didn't make her feel better. Especially if she did kill Brooke.
"Brooke saved the auto-injector," he said. "If Mrs. Sykes reappears and breathes a word about your involvement, it lands on Jonas' desk, along with any hope she has of escaping this without serious charges."
Belinda watched him, his steel eyes following the movement of his thumb circling the diminishing red spot on her neck. He sounded and looked a little deadly right then. Most of the time, it never crossed her mind. But moments like this, Belinda realized his bad side was a dangerous place to be.
"Why did you help Brooke?" he asked, the shadow passing.
Good question. She'd repeated the scenario a million times in her head since, wishing for a time machine to take her back so she could change what she'd done. "I don't really know." Belinda leaned against the headrest. "I was so shaken after Mrs. Sykes stabbed me with the epinephrine. And then Brooke was acting like a totally new person. I just followed for some reason." She wished she had a better explanation, but there it was.
Bennett stroked her cheek. "Let's see what Brooke has in store for us here."
They found the room and walked around it in a few strides. The oak four poster bed, including a peach-colored canopy, took up most of the space. It looked completely untouched. But they knew what they wanted. A suitcase.
Bennett pulled it out of the top shelf of the closet, hidden by a couple of king size pillows. It was surprisingly light. "What's supposed to be in here again?"
"A jacket."
Bennett shook his head. "I really don't get what this has to do with anything."
"Me either yet. But two people have possibly died because of this." Belinda pointed at the black fabric suitcase. There was nothing distinguishing about it. She hoped something more unique was inside. Belinda held up the key. "Here goes nothing."
She unlocked it and ran the zipper around. Looking up at Bennett for encouragement, she took a deep breath and threw it open. A pink leather jacket was folded carefully inside. Bennett scratched his head.
"What is this?" he said.
Belinda rubbed the fabric between her fingers. Good
quality leather. Supple. Soft like butter. A true pink. But what on earth did it have to do with April's murder? Why was Mrs. Sykes willing to possibly kill her for this?
"Are you as confused as me?" Belinda said.
Bennett nodded. "I'm trying to figure out how this ties in...but I don't get it. Maybe it's not connected."
"No, no it is, Bennett. It has to be. This may be why April died." She fell onto the bed. "What do we do now?"
Bennett rubbed his jaw. "This is clearly important to someone, so I say we leave it here until I can talk to Jonas tomorrow morning. I'll hold onto the keys. If someone wants to come after me, have at it. But you're not getting in any deeper than you already are."
"I don't think you can save me now." She half-smiled. Mrs. Sykes' disappearance could mean a lot of bad things in the future. If she did steal from the fundraiser, it would probably come out if she didn't turn up. And Belinda had a sinking feeling that would mean the bulk of the attention would land on one person—her.
Worst. Idea. Ever.
Bennett fiddled with the zipper on the suitcase. "Did Jonas tell you what they learned about Sawyer's reaction?"
Belinda shook her head. Bennett explained quickly that they found traces of shrimp on the canapé from the trash, but not from the samples they took. They'd spoken to the caterer and the person responsible for making those canapés and they didn't use shrimp in any way, shape, or form. Unless they lied, only the canapé Sawyer ate had shrimp.
"More than one person saw Brooke bring him food," Bennett said. "No one could say for sure that she brought him that canapé, but she left before he reacted and Sawyer did admit she knew about his allergy."
"Do you think she tried to kill him?"
Bennett rubbed the scratch on his hand. "No."