by Amy Saunders
She had no idea why, but Belinda agreed with him. Even with Brooke's weird spy-licious skills, Belinda still didn't believe she would lace Sawyer's food with shrimp. She rubbed the jacket absently. "What were you doing all this time? I know you were up to something."
Bennett took a seat next to her on the bed. "I told you. Tailing you."
"That wasn't all you were doing." Belinda shifted sideways to face him. He sat hunched over with his eyes on his hands, tucked between his knees. Bennett didn't always seem just human to her with his ever-abundant well of self-confidence. But right then he looked like just a guy. "I know you well enough to figure that out."
His mouth curled up. "I suppose you do." He rubbed his hands together. "I knew Brooke was somebody else a while ago. After the cocktail party actually. I, uh, went to see Sawyer afterward and looked through his phone."
"He let you look through his phone?"
Bennett laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, he let me look through his phone. We get along well, Sawyer and I."
"There's no need to be sarcastic." She folded her arms. "So what happened?"
Bennett sighed. "You really want that story?"
"You know I'm not going to let it go. So you may as well tell me and save yourself the grief."
He leaned his elbows on his thighs, and turned his head up to see her, a wicked light in his eye. "I was angry about Sawyer kissing you." He spoke free of emotion, though Belinda could see it still swirling around in there. "I found the key card after that and decided to follow Sawyer back to his room. The card worked his door, so I walked right in. He was expecting someone."
Belinda shimmied farther onto the bed, crossing her legs. This story was getting interesting.
"At the time, I thought he was expecting you," Bennett continued. "Now I think he was actually expecting Brooke. She told me about going to see him at the cocktail party. Anyway, I, um, lost my temper and choked him and then locked him in the bathroom." He did not look even the tiniest bit remorseful.
"You choked him and locked him in the bathroom?" A smile spread on her face. This was a thousand times better than she imagined it. "You sooooo like me."
"Do you want me to finish the story?"
Belinda straightened up and flattened her expression. "Please. Continue."
"Once I took care of that little problem, I checked his phone contacts. No one cropped up that I recognized. But then a photo he had made me go back and look again. Brooke was in his contacts, but under the name–"
"Riley." Belinda shook her head. "The annoying mystery person who was right under my nose the whole time."
"Yeah. I didn't know what it meant until later. But I knew I had to keep my eye on her. I had a feeling she wasn't completely innocent. There was a reason she was working for you. I knew there was."
Belinda hadn't really considered that possibility. Mostly because she was focused on finding out what Brooke was. Not why she was working for her. "What's the reason?"
Bennett tapped his fingers against his chin. "I thought that working for you put her in a strategic position, but there was more to it. She thought you'd make a good partner-in-crime for her. That much I found out."
"Yes, but to do what?" Belinda flailed her arms. "Kidnap desperate housewives? She told me she was in danger, which is clear now. But I can't figure out what she was. A spy? An undercover cop? A cyborg from the future?"
He gave her a small smile. "I doubt she's any of those things. I went to Brooke right after you dumped Mrs. Sykes on your boat. I told her I would help her if she promised to leave you out of her plans. Brooke agreed, so we went back to the boat after dark and dealt with it." Bennett studied his fingertips. "When we got back to my house, Mrs. Sykes was pretty cooperative—once she calmed down. Brooke was too, though she wouldn't divulge any details. I figured I could wear her down given time. But then she left while I was out, against my strict orders, and the killer found her."
Belinda raised her hand.
"Yes?" Bennett said in amusement.
"If Mrs. Sykes is not our killer, why did the murderer leave her alive?"
"Good question. Brooke was killed in the main house. So, theoretically, Mrs. Sykes could have hid in the spare bedroom when she realized what was happening and stayed there until...until she could leave."
A shudder made her convulse. She wasn't sure how she would react in that situation. She hoped she wouldn't just hide. "I'm sorry this happened. I never meant to drag you into this."
Bennett sat up, surprise on his face. "You didn't drag me into anything. I did this on my own because...because I care what happens to you. No other reason." He shook his head. "I'm sorry about Brooke, but I have a feeling she dug into something over her head and couldn't climb out. But you. You're a different story."
"I'm a trouble-finder."
"You are apparently a beacon for this sort of thing, and if I can't stop it, then I can try to protect you when it happens."
"You did a good job."
"Did I?"
Belinda's eyes watered up again. "Yes, Bennett. You did. I owe you...I'll never stop owing you."
"Don't say that." His voice was soft but firm. "You don't owe me anything. I would do that all over again in a heartbeat."
She knew that he would. And she also knew that she would do whatever possible to protect him from her mistakes.
Chapter 24
Belinda offered sleeping space in the carriage house if Bennett didn't want to sleep in his house that night. She certainly wouldn't, but Bennett said he could handle it, and she knew he could. But she was still reluctant to just leave him there alone after everything and especially with him holding the key card and suitcase key. What if the killer was watching and knew all this?
So she pretended to drive off and circled back around the subdivision, stopping just feet from his house. She could keep watch and warn him if anyone snuck onto the property. Or she could just Belinda chop them herself.
But she'd barely settled in and prepared for an all-nighter before Bennett scared her half to death (again!) by knocking on her window. "What are you doing?" he said once she rolled it down.
Her reply was something like "Um...ahh...so..."
He leaned on his knees to see her better. "Go home, Kittridge."
Belinda jutted out her bottom lip in defiance. She probably looked more like she was pouting than rebelling, but her face only worked so many expressions. "No."
"Why? You've had a long week. Don't you want to go home and crash?"
Well, of course she did! Except that she was so wired now she doubted she'd fall asleep until tomorrow anyway. She might as well do something useful while awake. "I'm trying to help."
Bennett leaned his arms on the window so his face was level with hers. "Then go home. Because if you don't, I won't get any sleep either, keeping an eye on you."
Considering he'd followed her all over Portside and just taken the fall for her stupidity, she couldn't very well deprive him of any more sleep. She sighed. "Fine. I'll go. But only so you can sleep."
"Thank you. I appreciate it." He tapped the side of her car. "Now go before I'm forced to drive you home to make sure you get there."
Belinda did, albeit reluctantly, and texted him when she got back as ordered to right before she drove away. His reply? Good. I'd hate to have to put you on lockdown. And mine will stick. To which she sent a cutesy emoticon representing her sticking her tongue out at him.
A second later, he replied, You know how I feel about those.
So she typed a smiley face.
Then he told her to go to bed.
Belinda giggled and slapped her phone on the bedside table. They were definitely getting back to normal. She tossed the quilt over her head and in minutes after hitting the pillow, she lost contact with the world.
When she woke up, it was that day finally. That dreadful, awful day when Belinda would have to stand in front of a three-way mirror in a chiffon dress that would expose all of the things wrong with her body that she
had learned to disguise with her wardrobe.
She hid under the quilt until her alarm buzzed. Of course, the whirring of some power tools had woken her up a while ago. The Kittridge estate had been abuzz—literally—with construction workers, landscapers, and Kyle. She'd popped in the previous day to see how things were going, and demolition was basically finished. It was frightening stepping inside and seeing absolutely nothing except bare bones. She had to keep telling herself it wasn't permanent.
Belinda dragged herself out of the carriage house and over to meet Victoria so they could go to the dress fitting together. Victoria was not in the wedding, but she was close to Belinda's family and invited to attend anyway.
"All right, you've teased me long enough," Victoria said while they drove along toward the bridal boutique in Portside. "Give up the Bentails."
Belinda laughed. "I'll give you the punch line first: I think Bennett and I are officially okay."
"Okay okay? All of this ridiculousness hasn't relegated your relationship to a 'just friends' status?"
Belinda smiled mischievously. "Well, let's see." She tapped her chin. "We made out in the police station, so–" Victoria grabbed her arm.
"Back way, way up here. I want to know everything that happened."
Belinda described the whole horrible Bennett's arrested scene, and then Belinda ensuring there were no more misunderstandings after she bailed him out. She left out the inn and suitcase bit. It was a dangerous item and she'd done enough damage to one of her friends already.
Victoria mused on the whole scenario. "I bet Jonas had a chat with him."
"You think so?"
"Jonas seems more adept at this sort of thing, and he's pretty forthright. I can totally picture Jonas giving him the smackdown."
Belinda laughed. "So Jonas is Bennett's Victoria?"
Victoria grinned. "Everyone needs a smackdown sometimes and I don't think Bennett's the exception."
"He most certainly is not. I don't think Jonas was kidding when he told me I had my work cut out for me."
"So Bennett needs discipline."
"Lots of it."
Victoria adjusted her position in her seat, gripping the steering wheel more firmly. "So have we thought about wardrobe possibilities for Saturday's grand cupcake truck opening?"
"Uh-oh. You're talking about me in plural." Belinda had pretty much ignored her opening for at least twenty-four hours. But despite everything, she had to get back on the train and finish prepping, or she could kiss that good-bye as well.
"Don't kid; I know you're nervous and that you've already started thinking about it. You've got news crews covering it, and Bennett will be there watching. You need to think ahead about these things and keep him coming back for more."
Belinda nodded, the two of them all business now. Jitters ran up and down her spine. "I don't know which direction to take. I'll be dancing, so it needs to give, and I'll be working, so I want to be comfortable and not sweat like a wrestler. But I want to look hot. And not in the sense of the previous statement about the wrestler."
"I totally agree. Something flirty and cute but not overly constricting."
"Which narrows down the amount of clothes I can access significantly." She pinched the bridge of her nose, her stomach sinking. She kept forgetting that most of her clothes were in the boxes piled up in back of the carriage house and she had no idea which ones. Someday, that would have to change, but it wouldn't be for a while. "This move into the carriage house has been nothing but a headache."
"No need to despair. What about adjusting the outfit you wore to the cocktail party? I know that was a traumatic evening and all, but that's all behind you now and you do need an outfit for Saturday."
"I did like what I wore that night and it was comfortable. Do you think it would bother Bennett to see me in that again?"
"Would he even have noticed or remember at this point?"
Belinda just stared at her for a moment.
"Okay, you're right," Victoria said. "Gray-eyed eagle, blah blah blah. He'll remember. Well, why don't you just change up something about it then? You'll need different shoes and less accessories anyway. That way it's not exactly the same thing you wore that night."
"Good plan. I think I can manage that."
"I know you can." Victoria wiggled around. "So you made out in the jail, huh? That's hot."
Belinda grinned.
The lady at the bridal boutique downtown unzipped the garment bag holding her dress. She felt like a cooked shrimp trying to squeeze back into its uncooked skin as she shimmied and wriggled and sucked in every inch to see that it zipped all the way to the top. But it did zip all the way to the top and she could still breathe. Sort of. She glanced at one of the chairs in the dressing room and sighed. She wasn't sure she would be able to sit.
"It fits you perfectly." The sales lady beamed and ferried her out of the dressing room to where the rest of the girls waited. In the center of the circle, Belinda winced in the face of the ultimate of horrors: a three-way mirror. The sales lady ushered her onto the platform.
Belinda opened her eyes at the behest of the other girls and discovered that her destiny did not look as bulging at the seams as she expected. In fact, as surprised as she was to admit it, she actually looked pretty good. Even sexy. The champagne-colored gown crossed one shoulder and gathered across her chest, flowing down to the floor from her hips.
All the girls demanded that she twirl, so she did so slowly, coming back around to the mirrors, still impressed with her own appearance. Her cousin Nicole clapped and hooted while a couple of the other girls, including Mia, whistled. Victoria laughed and winked as Belinda glanced back at her coyly.
Nicole hugged her as she climbed down off the platform. "I told you you would look marvelous! I can't imagine what you were afraid of."
I was afraid of looking like a lumpy pillow, Belinda thought. But the truth was, she didn't look like a lumpy anything. Belinda returned to the dressing room, wanting to crash into one of the chairs from emotional exhaustion. At least that was over and it wasn't anything near as bad as what she expected. Of course, it would be hard to top the last few days.
As she put her own clothes back on, fingering the edge of her dress with more affection than when she got there, her phone rang. Belinda dug through her purse, finally grasping it. An unknown number. With all the bad news lately, she was going to ignore it, but something in her gut told her to pick up. Before she knew what she was doing, she answered. "Hello?"
A second went by before Belinda heard anything. "Belinda?" A man's voice. A frightened, near-hysterical man's voice. And she'd heard it before.
"Caleb? Is that you?" Belinda moved her bag off the chair so she could sit down and concentrate. Plus, she feared she might actually pass out from exhaustion. She would never tell Bennett, but it was a good thing he made her go home to bed.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I don't know who else I can trust."
Belinda scratched her head at that, but she took a breath and bypassed it for the time being. "Where are you?"
A few seconds ticked by. "I need your help. I don't want to say much over the phone. Will you meet me?"
Belinda drummed her fingers on the side of her face, thinking about everything at stake now. Bennett rotting in prison... "When? Where?"
"That old cemetery up by the church at the top of the common. You know, the one at the top of that long descent that lands in downtown?"
"The cemetery?" She did not like the sounds of that.
"Trust me. And please...please don't say anything to anyone."
Belinda rubbed her temple. "Sure." Belinda peeked behind her, hearing voices lurking near the door.
There was no response.
"Hello?" Belinda checked, but the call was lost. She sighed, tossing her phone back in her bag. She had a feeling she would not like what was coming, and she just hoped she lived long enough to relay what she knew to Jonas.
En route to meet Caleb after dropping off Vi
ctoria, who was headed to work, Belinda remembered Caleb's strange request at the show after he found April's body. He asked for Riley. Repeatedly.
He knew Brooke.
Which made some amount of sense because Caleb worked for April and Brooke had worked for Sawyer. And Sawyer and April were friends. But then Caleb also denied knowing any Riley and now she was dead.
So was this urgent graveyard meeting about Brooke?
Belinda parked on a cross street and walked to the old cemetery next to the white church. She'd seen plenty of wedding processions crawling down from there to the rectangular common below. Green and shady with a view of Portside Harbor. And Caleb was right, it was a long, gradual descent to the downtown. Like other parts of Portside, it was just a street up from the main strip, but felt sequestered. Her town was weird like that.
Caleb waited for her next to a tree, its roots tangled above ground. There was a meager picket fence with an open gate to the side. Belinda stepped off the concrete path, riddled with imperfections, another town-wide problem, and crossed through the tombstones—gray, green, and mostly illegible because of erosion. Caleb had on mint green jeans and red sneakers and a black jacket zipped up to his neck. His brown, wavy hair was in a messy clump on his head, and Belinda could just make out dark circles under his glasses.
Belinda frowned. "What are we doing here?"
Caleb motioned with his head, a weary smile on his lips. "I'll show you."
Belinda followed to a corner of the cemetery in the back of the church where shadows curled over them like awnings. Caleb knelt by a grave that, after squinting hard, Belinda could tell read Prudence something and the dates were sometime in the 1700s. One of Portside's heydays. Though it wasn't doing too bad in the twenty-first century either.
Caleb lifted what looked like a piece of slate in front of the grave. He blinked, thrusting it up completely and bending over.
"What are you doing?" Belinda whispered.
"It should be here." Caleb lifted up other pieces of slate and stone around the grave.
"What should be here?"