Seven
Tossing on their clothing, Heather and Rex slammed out of her bedroom and into the hall. Lights flicked on and doors crashed open. Sarah and Jon joined them in racing to the stairwell from where they heard a series of groans. At the bottom, Dave stretched on the floor, his left leg twisted at an odd angle.
“Someone pushed me,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “My leg ... I think it’s broken.”
“I’ll call for help,” Rex said while Heather knelt beside the stricken man.
“Shit,” Jon cursed. “We don’t have liability insurance yet.”
“Is that all you can think of?” Heather retorted. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. Dave is a contestant, not a guest.”
“Yeah? Well, the studio should be doing more to guarantee our safety. Who’s responsible for these incidents? You’d think the tapes would show someone we might recognize.”
“Oh, dear,” Sarah cried. “I-I’ll get Dave a glass of water.”
“The ambulance is on its way,” Rex told them, replacing the phone receiver on its cradle. “I called the detective, too. I thought he should know about this.”
“Who pushed you?” Heather asked Dave.
“I couldn’t see. The person had something over their head.” He gasped as a spasm of pain caught him. “Maybe. . . check outside. Whoever it was ran out the front door.”
Heather wondered if she could find any clues by looking outdoors. Not in the dark. That kind of investigating was best left to the police. Too bad the alarm system wouldn’t be activated until Friday, or it would have alerted them to an intruder. She didn’t see how someone from inside the house could have pushed Dave down the stairs, charged out the front door, returned through another entrance, and come upstairs....
Wait a minute. She’d only gotten a quick look at the owner’s suite on the ground floor level, with its private entrance on the other side of the living and dining rooms. Could there be a back staircase that she didn’t know about? Her mind’s eye pictured the door at the far end of the upstairs corridor. She had opened it briefly but assumed the dark space held a closet. Torn between wanting to investigate and providing support, she patted Dave’s clammy hand, contemplating what his injury would mean to their team.
“You’ll get fixed up and come back,” she told him. His pallor alarmed her. Was he going into shock? “Rex,” she said, her pitch rising.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” Rex knelt beside their colleague. “Hang in there, buddy. The medics are coming. Hear the siren? We’ll save your place at the table for you.”
“I don’t think so.” Dave’s voice broke. “Looks like I’ll have to work toward the pool service on my own. Maybe I can find myself a rich mama who digs hanging with a tough guy like me.”
Heather’s lower lip trembled as she fought tears. For all his masculine posturing, Dave was a whiz with computers. He’d carried his weight and deserved winning the prize same as the rest of them.
Just how valuable Dave’s job had been became evident after daybreak when Jon sat at the computer to work on his spreadsheet. Heather heard his cry from outside, where she’d been inspecting the front lawn and shrubbery for clues to last night’s visitor. She ran indoors to find Jon jumping up and down. “Everything is gone,” he yelled, flapping his arms. With his ruddy complexion and spiked hair, he reminded her of a rooster.
She glanced at the blank monitor screen. “What do you mean?”
“The hard drive. It’s wiped clean. I can’t even bring up Windows.”
“Oh, golly. All our files, the work Dave did. Lost?” She glanced around for Rex before remembering he’d gone into town to buy more supplies. Since when had she become so reliant on him? Sarah wouldn’t be any help. Her skills centered in the kitchen. “Maybe the data can still be retrieved,” she said. “Give me the phone book. I’ll call a technician.”
“It’s a good thing I wrote our figures in the book,” Jon said, giving her a dark glance. “Backups are essential. Did you copy your stuff to a disk?”
“Dave said he would do that for me.” She bit her lip. Had last night’s accident been an attempt to derail his efforts?
She called a computer expert who said he’d be out later that afternoon. Then she returned a few reservation inquiries left on their telephone answering machine. Already some of her advertising initiatives were showing results.
Her stomach growling, she entered the kitchen for a midmorning snack. Sarah, wearing an apron, was cutting vegetables in preparation for lunch. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her lids looked puffy. Heather had noticed earlier but hadn’t taken the opportunity to speak to her privately.
“Be careful with that knife. The way you’re chopping those carrots, your finger might slip. We don’t need any more accidents,” Heather warned.
Sarah paused, giving a furtive glance at one of the recessed camera lenses. “Can I talk to you outside?”
“Sure.” They might get a quick minute in the backyard before a cameraman and sound tech bustled over.
The shorter woman walked with Heather toward the lake. A clump of banana plants hung over the water, one of them sporting a deep purple blossom. Heather sniffed moisture in the air, a sign of impending rain. Cumulus clouds powdered the sky, a deep celestial blue. She glanced at the lake, where sunbeams showered the surface with sparkles of light.
“What’s on your mind?” she prompted Sarah.
Sarah’s brow knitted. “It’s about Dave. I never told anyone, but I saw somebody on the patio the night Gary got clobbered.”
“I thought you said the blinds were closed.”
“They were lowered, but the slats weren’t shut. I didn’t get a clear look, though.”
“This could be important to the police.”
She lowered her pixie-cut blond head. “I didn’t want to say anything in case it was Dave. He knew about my ... he saw me ...”
“What?” Heather swallowed her impatience.
“It would disqualify me. You have to promise not to tell.”
“All right.” She’d deal with the ramifications later. Right now, all Heather wanted to do was to prevent further incidents that caused bodily harm.
Glancing away, Sarah cleared her throat. “He caught me researching recipes in a cookbook. Remember Logan said we weren’t allowed any instructional manuals? I’d brought it from home in my suitcase. Otherwise, there’s no way I could have come up with all these menus on my own.” Her pleading look engaged Heather’s sympathies.
“So you kept quiet about what you saw because you thought it might be Dave outside, and if you told the police about him, he’d tell Logan about you?” She wrestled with her own anger. Sarah’s selfishness could have been responsible for Dave’s broken leg. He might have even cracked his collarbone tumbling down those stairs. Maybe he’d be unharmed if Sarah had spoken sooner and given the police some clues to follow.
“Did you see anything else? Was Gary struck from behind, or did he face the person who hit him?” Aware that a camera crew was heading their way, she spoke rapidly.
“I-I don’t know. Dave passed through the kitchen on his way to the garage, if that’s even where he went. I was upset when he caught me reading the cookbook, although he didn’t say anything. He left after giving me this smirk, you know? I made sure to keep away from the cameras. After I’d stashed the book in its hiding place, I glanced up to see the barest flash of movement on the patio. I was afraid someone might be spying on me, so I shut the blinds.”
Perhaps Dave had seen something significant on his way outside. That could be why he’d been targeted last night. But if that was true, why hadn’t he spoken up?
Because he had something to hide, too. Maybe he’d been on his way to an assignation. With whom? Kim had been upstairs. Michelle, though, had been prowling the territory.
The camera crew reached them as they were heading back to the house. “What did we miss, ladies?” Tanya cooed, her face coated with the appropriate application of pasty makeup. Heather gave her a critical glance. She must rise awfully early to primp herself in case the chance to be filmed popped up.
“We were talking about Gary,” she told the co-producer. “Tell me, did the police find anything on the tapes from that night?”
Tanya offered a chilly smile. “I’m afraid not. It was too dark. The lights were out.”
“Oh, yes.” Someone who’d been waiting on the patio might have switched them off when Gary appeared alone. It’s possible he’d recognized, or even greeted, his assailant beforehand. Sarah had noticed movement in the shadows by the pool but nobody she could identify, and by the time Michelle had stepped outside, the deed was done. Michelle wouldn’t have had time after leaving the rest of them in the living room to fetch a shovel, bonk Gary on the head, and ditch the evidence.
Something didn’t play right about this scenario, but Heather couldn’t determine the source. For now, she’d hold her tongue about Sarah’s indiscretion. Ratting on her teammates wasn’t in her nature. It was more important that they make this venture a success, regardless of who would win.
As they entered through the patio screen door, a pang of yearning stabbed her. How she wanted to claim this house for her own. You can’t kid yourself. You’re dying to be the winner.
Scanning the sparse outdoor furnishings, an oblong glass table with four chairs and two chaise lounges, she thought about how she’d add another dinette set, citronella candles, hanging plants, and chimes. Kim had contributed that pitiful potted green plant that acted as a centerpiece. If the house were hers, Heather would find something more suitable to her tropical theme.
Straightening things came second nature to her as a real estate agent. Her practiced glance noted the clumps of dirt marring the glass tabletop. Halting, she scooped the soil into her hand and dumped it into the pot. After righting the lopsided stalk, she followed Sarah inside.
Rex had returned with a report on Dave’s condition. “His leg is in a cast,” Rex said, unloading a bag of weed killer from the trunk of his Corolla. His arm muscles bulged. Heather watched the byplay of his powerful shoulders while he lifted the heavy purchases and stashed them in the garage. “But he’ll be in the hospital a while longer, so I guess he’s out of action as far as we’re concerned.”
“Someone wiped our hard drive clean,” she told him. “Jon discovered it this morning. I arranged for a technician to come later to try to retrieve the data and reinstall Windows.”
“Great.” His eyes smoldered as he regarded her. “How are you holding up? Are you okay?”
She smiled. “I’m fine, but I’m glad you’re home.”
Home. How she wished those words were true. This house sang to her, as though it shared her longing. Its façade spoke to her of steamy summers and dry, balmy winters, of guests who enjoyed their stay so much that they made a return reservation for the following year. In her fantasy, Rex stood by her side, helping run the place, proudly skimming his hand over the polished wood during the day and stroking her skin, feverish with desire, in the evenings.
“You love this place, don’t you?” he said, cocking his head.
“I do,” she said, suppressing the urge to blurt out her feelings toward him. What did she feel? Had their lovemaking been merely an attempt to escape the tension building toward Friday evening, when one of them would be declared winner? Or did it mean more? Would she like Rex as much if she’d met him working in his father’s store? Did she care for him enough to help him reach his dream?
“It’s the house I’ve always wanted,” she told him. “When I was young, I entertained myself by picturing the various rooms in my dream house and how I’d decorate them. I can’t imagine anyone selling this place.” Nor could she imagine how she and Rex would continue seeing each other after the show ended. Their lifestyles differed dramatically; never mind the geographical distance that separated them.
“Not everyone wants the same things you do,” he spoke softly, regarding her with sad eyes.
“I know. Look at you. You’d like to live on the water instead of putting down roots on land.”
“You bet. I can’t wait to steer my vessel out to sea. Already I see myself holding the wheel, rocking with the motion as we hit each wave, being one with her as we slice through the water,” he said with a dreamy, faraway look.
“Same as lovemaking.” She smiled, but without cheer.
He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Not quite the same. I feel that we have something special, Heather. Regardless of who wins, I’d like to see you afterward.”
“What for? You don’t seem to understand that I have to provide for my parents. Their good health depends on me. So I need this house or another one just like it. I couldn’t ever live on a boat.”
“Couldn’t we see where our relationship goes without worrying about living arrangements, or are you not interested?”
“Yes, I am, I mean ... let’s just wait and see what happens, okay? Neither one of us may win. Sarah or Jon could take home the final prize.”
“Sarah doesn’t deserve it,” Rex said. “There’s more to running an inn than cooking meals. Jon does his share, but I’m not sure he has the people skills.”
“They’d both sell the place anyway, so what does it matter?”
His mouth tightened. “They wouldn’t be the right people at the helm even if they wanted the B&B. Both of them are doing only what they’re supposed to do and nothing more. You have to go above and beyond to be successful in any business venture. I don’t think either one of them is capable.”
Apparently, the viewers agreed, because on Tuesday night, Sarah got voted off the show. Logan had canceled the voting Monday because of Dave’s departure.
Wednesday found three of them contending for the same goal. Excited that she was still in the race, Heather wondered why winning didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.