Chapter 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

T he car where Belle rode in the backseat pulled up to a four-story condo building that seemed to be radiating the Florida sunshine. “Thank you,” she said to the driver. She stuffed her purse in her backpack and reached for the door handle.

He got out to get her big suitcase, and Belle slid her backpack over the handle of it and pulled out her phone so that she could pay the driver for the ride. He drove off before she finished that, but she got the job done and then tapped over to her vacation reservation email to get the code for the door. She’d looked at it ten times that morning already, and she knew the unit sat on the ground floor with easy beach access right out the back.

She wheeled her suitcase to the door and typed in the code to enter. One long hallway stretched in front of her, down to the living, kitchen, and dining room at the back of the house. Sunlight streamed in back there as windows stood sentinel from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, and a screened-in sun porch also offered another place to eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner, as well as lounge while reading a book.

Immediately to her left, in a little alcove in the hall, stood a stackable washer and dryer and then the doorway to the master suite. Belle wheeled her backpack and suitcase in there, noting the big king bed that she’d probably need a step to climb up into, a beautiful bureau with a television on it, and around the corner to the right, the bathroom.

She sighed to be here in this condo, because it was so unlike anything she’d ever done in her life. She didn’t need bells and whistles. She didn’t pay for extravagant, expensive vacations. Heck, she didn’t even take regular vacations. Most of what she’d done in the past seven or eight years since leaving Nashville and landing in Wyoming was hike in the Tetons or visit Yellowstone to watch Old Faithful go off. Those were things she could do in a day on her day off from work that would reset her, recenter her, and remind her that God existed and good people lived in the world.

In a job like hers, it was easy to think everyone had something to hide, had done terrible things or wanted to do them, or committed crimes. She left her things in the bedroom and went down the hall again.

Also on her right, another bedroom appeared, this one with a double bed and a twin, a tiny TV mounted to the wall, and a nightstand between the two beds. No dresser, but it did connect to the main bathroom, which also had a hall entrance.

She glanced around for a moment, because this would be where Harry would stay. She had a stackable washer and dryer unit, a bathroom, and a solid, strong wall separating her bed from his.

Her heartbeat pumped out several extra thumps simply thinking about him being in this space with her. They hadn’t had a lot of in-person interaction, but they’d exchanged hundreds of texts in the past couple of days, and he’d called her on Monday night, Tuesday night, and last night, in his words, “just to hear the sound of your voice.”

He sure seemed to like her as much as he had last year. And while that baffled Belle as much as it ever had, it also caused a smile to come to her face. She continued down the hall another few steps, where she found a galley kitchen with a big, long island in the middle. She could go toward the kitchen sink and then turn and step down into the living room or continue straight and step down to the same space.

A giant dining room table for eight stood there, all the chairs waiting for guests. Two big recliners faced a full-sized couch with the television between them. And then she reached the wall of windows. The door slid open from the corner, going about halfway across the condo, so that she could step outside to the screened porch, which she did. She took in a deep breath of the sunshine, the sound of the sea, the shrieking of seagulls, and the sea breeze.

Two loungers sat out in the sun porch, as well as a small table with four chairs. With screens everywhere, including a door, she stepped through that, and ten feet down a narrow sidewalk with grass on both sides, she met the sand. The beach stretched in front of her and to her right; to her left, in front of the next building over, a giant swimming pool where splashing, laughing families called to one another.

Cabanas and umbrellas had been set up in the sand in front of her, with loungers that had clearly been moved around according to individual needs.

She could see herself lying there, spraying herself with plenty of sunscreen since she’d just survived another winter in Wyoming—this one undercover, no less—and reading, eating frozen grapes, and basking in the warmth of the sun and the knowledge that she was free.

Not living another life anymore, with a name that wasn’t her own.

Not watching her back.

Not weighing and reweighing every word she said.

Not trying to quiet her pulse during every conversation, every work shift, every time she drove the van.

She pushed those memories out of her head as she walked across the hot, white sand to a vacant lounger under a blue umbrella. She sighed as she sat down and stretched her legs in front of her and reached her arms up over her head. Everything relaxed as she exhaled and she closed her eyes and thought, Thank you, Lord, for creating beautiful places like this for weary people like me.

She’d felt more and more seen since taking the undercover assignment, and her testimony of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, had grown and was stronger than ever. She knew He saw her. She knew He cared. She knew she could go to Him for anything, and He would help her, even if that help came in the form of silence. Even if that help came from someone she didn’t know. Even if that came in the form of having Harry Young stay with her for the next few days as they rekindled their romance.

She’d left her phone inside, and that needled at her, because Harry said that he was landing about the time that she could check-in, and she timed her arrival here at this beachside condo for the moment that she could enter.

She stayed outside for another few minutes, and then the need to know if he’d texted nagged at her too much to stay outside. She went back to the master bedroom and got her phone out of her backpack to check it.

Sure enough, Harry had called and texted, and his message read, Landed safely, and I’m on the way. I should be there in thirty minutes. I know what unit number we’re in, and I could just knock on the door, or you can give me the code and I’ll just come in.

He’d sent one more message: Are you there yet? I don’t want to get there before you. You should see it first.

She wasn’t sure why that mattered, but she smiled as she texted him back. I’m here, and you can come in with the code 42475. I might be out on the beach, so come find me if I’m not in the condo.

With that, Belle set aside her phone and quickly changed into her swimsuit. A cute romper that was bright blue with pink, peach, yellow, and white flowers splashed across it. She swung her suitcase up onto her bed and opened it to get out the sunscreen, her hat, and a swimming suit cover-up. Armed with those things, as well as her phone so she could read, Belle left the condo again in favor of the lounger in the shade. Another one sat on the other side of the umbrella pole, and she figured Harry could ease himself into that as easily as he’d reentered her life.

They’d need to go to the grocery store later, because he’d confessed that he liked having a fridge full of soda pop, and she wanted to stock it with bottled water and fruit. He’d looked up places and restaurants around town where they could eat. When he’d told her that, Belle had asked, “Is Adam coming?”

“No,” Harry had said. “And I’m actually pretty nervous about it. I haven’t flown anywhere without Adam in over a year. I don’t go anywhere without him. But Destin is a ritzy, high-end place, and I imagine they have celebrities there often. He’s made reservations for us at several places, and he’s told them that I’m a VIP who wants privacy. So I think it will be okay.”

She hadn’t rented a car, but Harry had, and she teased him relentlessly about his driving ability, seeing as how he got driven everywhere he went.

“I can do it,” he’d said. “And I can’t wait to prove it to you.”

She’d laughed, and she had really enjoyed the past couple of days of texting and talking to Harry. He’d sent her the listing of the house he’d just bought, and she’d been surprised to see how normal and average it was.

He told her, “That was my goal. I don’t need a great big mansion. It’s just me. It’s small-town Coral Canyon, and I just want to write songs and live my life.”

That was that.

That was what he was going to do now: be a country music songwriter. But he wasn’t going to perform anything he wrote. He wasn’t going to make any of the albums himself. He said he could if he wanted to, and he could release them independently and probably make far more than he did with Rebel, as his uncle had a recording studio behind his farmhouse on the eastern edge of Coral Canyon.

That intrigued Belle, and she wanted to know more about that. Her country music dreams had died a horrible, shattering death, but the more she talked to Harry, the more she realized that social media was not the same as it had been a decade ago.

She could probably do the same thing he had by getting herself a nice tripod, a ring light, and setting herself up on a set of stairs with a guitar and a song she’d written. She might be able to be as popular as him. She might be able to monetize her social media accounts and make money.

And if he knew how to record songs from a barn in Coral Canyon and release them independently, surely she could learn too.

“Is that what you want?” she asked herself as she settled onto the lounger and started to spray herself with the 70 SPF sunscreen so that her wickedly white skin wouldn’t burn on the first day. “Do you want to try your hand at country music again?”

The idea sounded ridiculous in her own voice, and yet it sat there in her heart and mind and wouldn’t go away. Because of that, Belle also had to question her current career choice. The more coveted positions, like being a supervisor over missing persons, could have been hers if she’d wanted it. But she’d taken her old job as an investigator and called it good. She still sought justice for those who had been hurt, but she’d seen so many ugly things in the past ten months.

As Belle truly thought about it, she stared out over the water, which always came ashore, lapping, waving, splashing, roaring. It never stopped. And that was how Belle felt about crime. It was never going to go away. They would never eradicate it. And she felt weary right down to her very bones because of that.

“Maybe you do need a change,” she whispered to herself, and she settled her sun hat on her head and leaned back as another relaxing sigh left her mouth.

All kinds of ideas had been swimming in her head since Harry had sat down next to her in the Jackson Hole airport. She lived in a rental apartment right now that her boss at the Sheriff’s department had found for her. It wasn’t a permanent housing solution, but she didn’t want to buy in Jackson Hole again.

No, even while she’d prepared for her court date and then to visit the shelter, both of which she’d done successfully—and she had located Rhonda; that case was now closed—she’d been searching real estate listings in Coral Canyon.

It was a small town that had experienced a boom of growth a few years ago, but the market had evened out again. The market was lower, and she’d found a dozen things that fit her budget. “Yeah,” she told herself. “Your budget if you have a job.”

She’d also flipped through the pictures of Harry’s house multiple times. And while it wasn’t a large mansion with all the newest, nicest things like in-floor heating, marble countertops, and decks that extended over lakes, it was plenty big enough for him, a wife, and their kids.

Five bedrooms, as well as a dedicated office space where he’d be writing his songs. He’d live in one of the bedrooms, which left four more for children or guests. Four bedrooms , she thought.

She’d known Harry to be a planner, and the house he’d bought definitely testified to that, so maybe she didn’t need to buy a house at all. “Well, you’re not going to move in with him while you’re dating,” she muttered.

Just because they were sharing this condo for the next few nights didn’t mean that she could start renting a bedroom down the hall from him, in his new house, in Coral Canyon. She scoffed out loud at the very idea, but she wasn’t sure if it was the idea of living with him in Coral Canyon or simply living in Coral Canyon at all. She tried to project out, future cast, and see where she should be.

What was the scene when she woke up in the morning? What did she see out her front window? Where did she need to go each day? Was it to the Sheriff’s Department for her next case?

Did she see a parking lot outside her apartment building when she opened her front window, or did she see the glorious sight of the Tetons rising in the distance, piercing the sky with their snow-capped pinnacles?

She hadn’t gotten that far as Belle loved looking at real estate listings, and that had consumed her—along with solving her latest case—for the past couple of days. Belle didn’t do anything very fast, and she needed to tell Harry that, so that he wasn’t expecting them to go from nothing to something amazing in only a few days.

At the same time, Belle’s whole life had been shaken up and put in a blender on high, and perhaps she would fall in love with Harry in only a few days, and they’d start planning their life together in Coral Canyon before she flew home from this vacation. Being in close quarters with someone like that really helped a person get to know them quickly. Belle knew that from her time undercover, but she could barely believe that she’d agreed that Harry could come on this vacation with her.

She set everything aside and told herself, “You’re on vacation. You need to enjoy it.”

“Do you think you’re not going to enjoy it?”

She startled and sat up as she looked over to where Harry Young himself stood. He had not changed into his swim trunks and brought out a hat and sunscreen, but he was gloriously handsome in the Florida sunshine, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt that had an upside-down astronaut on it that said, The gravity of this situation is dire.

Belle started to get up, and he said, “No, don’t. Stay there. I’ll go get changed. Do you need anything? ”

“We don’t have anything,” she said. “We’ve got to go to the grocery store.”

“Sure, but I can order something,” he said.

Belle thought, Of course he can. Harry was a pro at ordering in, and he had all of the food delivery apps on his phone. Surely they worked in Destin just as they did in Nashville.

“I’m gonna get an ice cream or a soda,” he said. “It’s hot here.”

“Both of those sound good,” she said.

He grinned and looked at her with such fondness that Belle could barely believe he meant it for her. “Great,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can tell me how you’re planning to enjoy the next five days here on the beach with me.” With that, he walked away, his sexy grin in place and Belle’s heart pumping faster than it ever had before.

Half the things she thought about Harry she couldn’t say out loud, including all of the things that she had been fantasizing about: moving to Coral Canyon to be closer to him, moving into his house with him to be his wife and the mother of his children, and a great many other things that the cowboy country music star could probably give her as he rescued her from this boring life she’d lived for the past thirty-one years.