When his eyes cracked open, Preston saw sunlight streaming through the lacy, white curtain on the window. A smile parted his lips as he thought about the late night spent with Darcy. After learning more about her, he felt himself falling harder for her. He remembered the way she lifted her fingers to her cheek after he kissed her, and his heart quickened its pace. He sighed. Maybe Laura was right...maybe felonies can be romantic.
The spicy scent of cinnamon finally coaxed him out of bed. Donning a pair of jeans and a burgundy sweater, he stepped into the hallway and breathed in the inviting aroma.
A creaking noise caught his attention, and he looked down the hall to find Darcy emerging from her room. Her auburn curls cascaded halfway down her back. She wore a pair of jeans and a blue, cowl neck sweater. He couldn't tell if she was wearing make-up or not, but she didn't need it. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and for a moment he stood and admired her without saying a word. When she turned her sparkling blue eyes on him, his mouth went dry and a thin layer of moisture coated his palms.
"Good morning, Boopy," she smiled. "How did you sleep?"
"Pretty good," he smiled back and rubbed his sweaty hands against his jeans.
A look of mock disappointment clouded her twinkling eyes. "You mean you don't have a stupid nickname for me this morning? And here I worked so hard to come up with 'Boopy'." The wide smile dancing on her lips crinkled her eyes at the corners, and he glanced up hoping to spot a spring of mistletoe above them, but sadly the ceiling was bare.
"It's a good one," he took her hand and they walked together down the stairs. "I'm not sure I can beat it this early in the morning."
"You do realize it's nearly noon?" Darcy playfully swung their clasped hands.
"Did you still want to do some investigating at the library today?"
"Of course!" They walked into the kitchen and found the source of the wonderful smell. A plate of cinnamon rolls sat on the counter, and a note in Gammy's shaky handwriting let them know the rest of the family was downtown getting ready for the Christmas festival.
Grabbing a couple of paper towels, Preston picked up a cinnamon roll for each of them and set them on the dining room table. After eating what could either be considered a late breakfast or an early lunch, they put on their coats and began the short, snowy walk into town.
"So what's this Christmas festival all about?" He turned to Darcy who was adjusting the glove on her hand.
"Oh, it's an annual tradition around here." Once she finished fiddling with the fingers of her glove, she smiled up at him. "There is a craft show, a dinner, and a dance. The money raised from the meal and craft sales goes to the local children's home. That's the only way those poor kids get any Christmas presents."
"That sounds like fun," He took her mittened hand in his. "Would you go with me...as my date?"
"Absolutely," she squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't want to go with anybody else." When her words sunk in, they stole all the chill from the air and replaced it with a glowing warmth.
"And you'll dance with me?"
"You already know I'm a terrible dancer," she giggled. "But if that's what you want, then I would love to dance with you."
"You're not terrible."
"Are you kidding? I have no moves whatsoever," she laughed. "It's like a whole body dry heave."
"I think it's adorable," he smiled as a hint of red rushed into her cheeks.
When they reached the library, they entered the nearly silent building. Only the sounds of intermittent typing and hushed voices could be heard. The interior looked like it hadn't been updated since the early 70s. Wood paneling covered the walls, and a ratty, commercial grade orange and brown speckled carpet clung to the floor for dear life. The heater must have been cranked full blast for the benefit of the elderly librarian behind the front counter. Deep wrinkles around her lips proved she was accustomed to shushing generations of small-town residents.
He shed his winter coat and gloves and Darcy followed suit. A long, table with wood partitions between each monitor housed six ancient-looking computers, one boasted an out of order sign he guessed had been there since 1995. Three of the other computers were taken by people who, judging by the glistening beads of sweat on their foreheads and the occasional adjusting of collars, must have forgotten just how warm this room was kept.
Preston followed Darcy to the unoccupied computer on the far end of the row. He rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and removed the chair in front of the computer that was out of commission and set it down for Darcy to use.
"You ready to investigate?" he smiled down at her.
"You betcha," she excitedly whispered back.
"Shhh!" The librarian's shrill shushing was louder than either of their voices a moment ago, and the few patrons at computers and those looking through the bookshelves turned to glare at the cranky octogenarian behind the desk.
***
Darcy allowed Preston to do the searching on the computer since he knew what he was looking for. She sat down beside him, and while she was interested to see if his suspicions were correct, she had a hard time taking her eyes off him. When he concentrated, a cute, little crease formed between his eyebrows and he bit his lower lip. How did he get to be so dreamy?
She thought back to the conversation of the night before, and a stab of regret pierced her at the thought of his sister spending Christmas alone. As much as she hated the idea of this fairy tale coming to an end, she knew the right thing to do would be let him go home for Christmas. Then she thought of his invitation to the festival tomorrow night. Maybe the right thing to do can wait just a little longer.
Suddenly, she felt his eyes trained on her, and she snapped out of her daydream with cheeks blazing.
"What are you looking at?" he whispered in her ear while shooting a wary look at the librarian who had nothing wrong with her hearing despite the fact she was older than the dickens. "Do I have something hanging out of my nose?"
She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. "No...you're perfect." She sighed. When he narrowed his eyes and threw her a lopsided grin, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Did I really just say that out loud? Stupid!
He leaned in close until his breath tickled her neck, sending a rush of heat down her already sweating spine. "I think you're pretty perfect too, Boo Bear." The words bouncing in her ears made time stand still, and she thought her breathing might never return to normal again. Never before had anyone made her feel this way. Travis never told her she was perfect, never made her feel like anything more than just an ordinary part of life.
As Preston continued his search, she thought of the job offer he made. That means he wants to see me after all this is over. If he despised me, he would never have offered me the vet tech job. The hope she barely dared to entertain the day before was now growing strong, and she swallowed hard around the building lump in her throat.
"I've got it!" He waved a triumphant fist in the air.
"Shhh!" the old librarian hissed.
Darcy leaned over to catch a look and was shocked to find Lexi's face emblazoned on the clunky computer screen. A gasp escaped her lips as she read the title of the video clip, 'Black Widow at Large'.
"Do you have headphones on you?" Preston quirked a questioning brow.
Knowing she always kept a pair of earbuds handy, she dug through her purse and pulled them out of their assigned space. After untangling them, he plugged them into the tower on the floor, placed one in his ear and handed her the other. She might as well be sitting in his lap as close as they were, but in order for them both to hear, it had to be done, and honestly, she didn't hate the woodsy, masculine scent of his cologne filling her nostrils. Though she would never admit it, she leaned in closer than what was actually necessary.
Preston clicked the little, sideways triangle in the center of the screen and let out a sigh as the video started to buffer. "You sick of this little piddly-dunk town with slow internet yet?" she whispered in his ear while glancing in the direction of the warden sitting behind the desk.
"Not entirely," he whispered back. "Nobody likes buffering, but this place has something else...someone else that totally makes up for the stone-age technology." When she looked up at him, he winked, and her heart melted into a puddle down to her toes.
Does he mean me? Could that really be what he means?
She hazarded a glance down at his lips which were so very close to hers and looked up into his eyes again. His gaze was focused on her mouth, and for a second, she thought he might kiss her in front of all six people in the library, and she didn't care. Their breath mingled in the muggy air between them, and she thought back to their kiss under the mistletoe. Of course, that one didn't count, because Gammy forced it...it had still been wonderful though. She wondered what a kiss from Preston coming from a place of love instead of coercion would be like. She knew that somehow, fireworks, marching bands, and white doves would all be involved if he really did kiss her and mean it.
"Your tips have led to the arrests of over eight hundred fugitives," the voice of John Walsh interrupted whatever it was that was happening between them, and she turned her eyes away from him and toward the screen.
"The woman in tonight's story is highly dangerous. She is believed to have killed at least four men, and is currently at large." A picture of Lexi panned across the monitor, and Darcy bit her lip. This was clearly the same woman her brother was planning to marry. "Her name is Liza Sanders, though she has gone by many different aliases. Liza has married four different men, all of which died mysteriously not long after the vows were spoken."
The hand of fear sunk it's talons in Darcy's chest, and her breath stood still. Jake! What if she hurts Jake? Her eyes swam as the sinister woman's story unfolded like a Stephen King novel before her eyes.
"Soon after Liza marries her victim, she takes out a life insurance policy for one million dollars. Of course, she is the sole beneficiary. The longest Miss Sanders has ever been married to any of her husbands is two months. Her first husband, Will Tomlinson, was found drowned in the bathtub. Her second, Chet Larson, fell down the stairs of the couple's home and broke his neck. The third, Victor Matthews, was found with his car on in the garage in what the police, at first, believed was a suicide. Her most recent husband, Karl Andrews, was found dead in their home with no satisfactory explanation as to cause of death.
"In each of these cases, Liza has left town before police had the opportunity to bring her in for questioning. She resurfaces in a new part of the country with a new name, and soon...finds a new victim to kill for insurance money."
Tears were now coursing down Darcy's cheeks. Preston rested his arm tenderly on her shoulder and drew her close, reminding her that this battle was not one she needed to face alone. She rested her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair as the final words of the segment played.
"If you have any information on the whereabouts of Liza Sanders...the Black Widow...please call us at the number below. A significant reward is being offered by the families of the victims for any information leading to the arrest of Miss Sanders."
The screen froze as the video ended, and Darcy glanced up at Preston. "Jake's in trouble," she choked. "She's going to kill him."
"We're not going to give her the chance," he rubbed circles on her back as he drew her close again.
"Shhh!"
All eyes once again turned to the librarian who was taking her job a little too seriously at the moment.
"What's our next move?" she whispered in his ear to avoid further reprimand from the ancient bag of bones across the room.
"We find a phone, and call the number. We'll let the authorities take care of the rest."
She nodded slowly and swallowed hard as tears stung her eyes.
"Hey," he whispered, "you're not alone...I'll be here for you."
"I don't know how to thank you..."
"There will be time for that later," he stroked her cheek. "Where is the nearest phone with a signal?"
"The bus station has a few public use phones, and we'll at least have some privacy there. If we called from here, the story would be common knowledge in about half an hour...one of the joys of living in a small town."
"Let's go."