Eyewitness in Danger, page 11
“I noticed.”
She grinned. “I’ve got his rookie card. Signed now—though I didn’t ask until the wedding was over so as not to be crass.”
“Well, as long as you weren’t that.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got a baseball card collection?”
“Yes. At the ranch. I didn’t have room to store it here.” Which kept her from talking about all the other collections she had: unicorn figurines, antique toasters, her late grandmother’s gigantic salt and pepper shaker collection.
“Well, you’re going to have to show it off sometime.”
She really wished her heart would stop doing this fluttering thing. “Sure. Yeah. I… I better get started on those cookies. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen,” she said, turning back to the kitchen, hoping she had all the ingredients necessary. She knew she had chocolate chips and butter—she always had chocolate chips and butter.
She scrounged enough of everything together to create a kind of half batch. It was funny how much more relaxed she was with him there.
They were still being filmed. It didn’t change anything whether he was here or across the street watching, but it felt different. It felt safe. But once he ate some cookies she was going to have to let him go and that filled her with such dread.
Be a grown-up, Franny, she scolded herself as she pulled the cookies out of the oven. She piled them up on a plate.
“Here we…” She trailed off. He sat on her couch, head slightly bowed, though his arms were crossed over his chest. His breathing was steady and even and his eyes were closed.
She stared at him there, sleeping soundly in an upright position on her couch. Poor guy was working overtime just to keep her safe. She knew it was his job, but it still felt like he was going a little above and beyond.
She knew that wasn’t about her personally, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have gratitude. Surely not every police officer who would have been assigned to this job would be quite so…kind about it.
She should probably wake him up, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it when he seemed so deep in it. She’d just…let him sleep.
Selfish, Franny.
Maybe, but it made her feel better knowing he was there.
So she got some blankets, a pillow, and wrote a little note. Then she turned off the TV and left him there sleeping and went to bed herself.
With the cookies, of course.
* * *
ROYAL WOKE IN the dark, a sharp pain his neck, and a bunch of old, ugly memories prickling at the edges of his brain.
Had he really told Franny all that about himself? What the hell had possessed him?
Well, that was easy if uncomfortable. Sympathetic green eyes and that careful way she held herself. It reminded him of someone who’d been beaten—always waiting for the next blow. He didn’t think that was her issue. She probably would have mentioned it and not called her “health issues” trauma-lite. But there was something there. A vulnerability she wasn’t any good at shoring up.
He should not like her for that alone. You had to be tough to get through life, and she was just…soft.
And sweet.
He blew out a breath, stretching his neck to one side and then the other, before doing a full neck roll.
He didn’t have a clue how his life had twisted and turned to wind up here. It felt even more unimaginable when he said things like born into the Sons and she said things like engineer dad and math teacher mom.
Upper middle class for God’s sake.
They didn’t have a thing in common, and yet he found her endlessly fascinating. She was just…unique, and there was something about her curiosity, her bravery in the face of all this that life had in no way prepared her for, and the open vulnerability that drew those protective instincts he’d honed somewhere along the way.
You either wanted to protect or you wanted to be the monster. Those were the only two options in the life he’d been born into. He didn’t consider himself that great of a guy, but he’d never had any interest in being the monster. He supposed that was the only thing that had led him here.
That and Brooke. He’d learned to forgive his sister—and it wasn’t as though she’d done anything to him that she needed his forgiveness for. It was just he’d gotten through his adolescence and some of his young adulthood by blaming her, by thinking she’d had it better somehow. The grudge had been a crutch.
And it had taken some work to get over it, just like it had taken some work to accept all the people ready and willing to help him build a real life outside of everything that had happened to him and everything he’d done.
He knew those people were willing because of Brooke, but getting to know his sister as an adult these past two years had made him fully understand why anyone and everyone rallied around Brooke.
She was a good, kind person. It was at the very core of who she was. No time in the Sons or in a crappy foster home had dulled that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had it to be dulled.
Franny had it. It was the only explanation for him telling her about the Sons.
He’d seen the questions building up inside her, but she hadn’t voiced a one. She would, he thought. In the next few days, she wouldn’t be able to resist. He could have offered more, explained it deeper.
He’d wanted her to see only the surface of it. A stop sign.
Because it felt a bit like they were on a strange precipice. Neither quite sure what to do with each other. Both a little too…attracted.
Polar opposites. Maybe it made sense. Not that he should let it make sense. He should be erecting very clear boundaries to a very complicated and odd situation.
Instead, he had…fallen asleep on her couch. The lights were out but the glow from the microwave clock allowed him to make out the shadows of furniture. He could smell cookies, but the scent was faint.
Hell, how long had he been out? He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Four. He’d slept for like…at least six hours. He shook his head and clicked on the phone flashlight. On the coffee table in front of him were a stack of blankets and a pillow with a little piece of paper on top.
He picked up the note, read it in the light of his phone.
Royal,
I thought it best to let you sleep. Text me when you need to leave, and I’ll get up to set the security system. Otherwise, I set my alarm for six and I’ll wake you up so you can get to your shift. Feel free to use whatever you need. Bathroom is in the hall.
—Franny
Like he wouldn’t have known who’d written the note. Which made him smile, but not as much as the little PS at the end.
I’m sorry, but I ate all the cookies.
It was four in the morning. It’d be silly to wake her up now to set her security system. He might as well just try to get another hour or two of sleep on the couch.
He grabbed the pillow and tossed it behind him. He didn’t bother with the blanket. Even though he could hear the air-conditioning working, it was hot up here.
He lay back and stretched out. He was usually a little too big for a couch, but this was a good size. Cushy. The pillow smelled fresh and clean, kind of like her. He looked up at the dark ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? Getting in way too deep, that was for sure.
Which was just impetus to see this through. Get it done. Once Albennie Ward was found and it was certain Franny was out of danger, they’d go back to passing each other on the street or bumping into each other at the bakery every once in a while.
Things wouldn’t feel quite so…tenuous then. He was sure of it.
Almost.
Chapter Fourteen
Franny woke up to her alarm and groaned. She turned it off immediately wondering whose bright idea it was to set it for six in the damn—
She sat bolt right up in bed. If her alarm was going off, Royal had…slept on her couch. Had he woken up at some point and decided to stay? Or had he slept in that horrible upright position?
Was she going to have to wake him up? She couldn’t let him be late for work. Not after he’d been so kind as to stay.
God, she’d slept so much better knowing he was there. Did that make her pathetic? Well, she was alive and not kidnapped so maybe she didn’t care if she was a little pathetic.
What she did care about was having to go out there and wake him up. That was just…awkward.
But she could hardly let him be late for work. She threw the covers off her. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to tame it as she moved around trying to find some clothes. She didn’t have a mirror in here. Why didn’t she have a mirror in here?
Six in the morning was never her friend, so running around grabbing random items of clothes and then rejecting them wasn’t what she wanted to be doing, but usually she didn’t have to actually think before a cup of coffee.
She finally pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. She was about to open her door when she stopped herself.
“Bra. My God, Franny, put on a bra.” Thank God there were no cameras in here. She backtracked, put on a bra, and then took a deep breath, let it out.
This was not the panic-inducing moment she was making it out to be.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She heard the faint sound of movement and edged into the main area.
Royal was standing, looking at something on his phone—the light from it and the hint of early sunlight from around the blinds were the only things illuminating the room.
Unerringly he looked up at her when she took one more step.
She held her hand up in the most awkward wave of all time then turned the main overhead light on. She managed a smile, hoped it didn’t read as awkward as it felt. “Morning.”
“Morning,” he said, his voice gruff. Which was hot. Because he was hot. And she could not be thinking about that right now.
“I know it’s silly, but I slept way better knowing you were here, so I really appreciate your willingness to humor me.”
He shoved his phone in his pocket and put the pillow on the stack of blankets he hadn’t used. “I appreciate you not waking me up. Probably got a solid eight in. Your couch isn’t half bad.”
“Good.”
He made a gesture for the door. “I better get back to my place so I can be ready for my shift on time. Just text me if you plan on going somewhere. Sound good?”
She nodded.
Before he could move, or she could offer coffee or breakfast or something, a knock sounded at the door. They both looked at it, then froze. Neither making a move one way or another.
Maybe he was as little of a morning person as she was, because he didn’t immediately tell her what to do or do anything himself.
“Well, kidnappers don’t really knock, right?” She managed a shaky kind of laugh and moved for the door. “I’ll look out and see who it is.” She moved to her toes, looked out the peephole.
It was… Copeland. She fell to her heels. She didn’t dare look back at Royal. This looked… Well, surely Copeland wouldn’t jump to weird conclusions. He’d understand.
But she was nervous now. “Uh, it’s Copeland,” she offered. Then disengaged the alarm and unlocked the door.
“Franny, sorry for the…” His gaze tracked beyond her to Royal, his expression immediately hardening. “What the hell are you doing here at six thirty in the morning?”
“Protecting me,” Franny said firmly. She stepped between Copeland’s angry gaze and Royal. “Remember?”
“Yeah, how far is that going?” Copeland demanded of Royal.
“It’s not…going.” Franny couldn’t look at Royal or she’d turn beet red. “And even if it was, absolutely none of your business, Copeland.”
“Look—”
“I know you and Audra have a very sweet meet cute from protecting her, but this isn’t…that. So stop making things weird and explain to me why you are here at six thirty in the morning.”
He was still glaring at Royal, kind of like the older brother she never had, which was almost sweet. If she didn’t feel so damn embarrassed. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.
Then his gaze moved to her, and there was an alarming kind of…regret there. “I just got some…disturbing news. I wanted to tell you in person. Both of you. Didn’t imagine you’d both be together, but—” He sighed. “There was a fire this morning at the library in Sunrise. The fire department called me once they saw what was being burned.”
“Which was?” Royal demanded, speaking for the first time since Copeland stepped in the door.
“A stack of your books, Franny.”
She leaned against the door, slowly let out her exhale as if she could control her breath she could control the jump of fear in her chest. “Well, that’s not good.”
“If it was burned, how do they know they were Franny’s?” Royal asked.
“It’s possible they weren’t all Franny’s titles,” Copeland said. “But…there was enough left of some of the covers it feels…likely they all were. I talked to the librarian. You know Dahlia, right?” he asked Franny.
She nodded. She liked the librarian out in Sunrise. The library was tiny, but they had a lot of information on the Order of Truth, so she had spent some time there researching that book.
“She said all your books that the library carries were checked out the day before by someone who claimed they were new to Sunrise and got a library card. So, we’ve got something to go off of. But it is another threat, and I want you both aware of it.”
“Why the Sunrise library?” Royal asked. “The Bent County library in Fairmont would have more of her books, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, but if I had to guess, the size of the library worked in the suspect’s favor. No surveillance, minimal security. Dahlia can describe the person who got the library card to us, and she will, but…”
“It’ll be like me describing the kidnapper. It’ll do a fat lot of nothing,” Franny said with some level of disgust.
“Or it doesn’t. We just don’t know.” Copeland glanced at her. “I want you to be aware so you’re always making an informed decision. If you want to come to the ranch, or have Audra—”
“I think we all know and agree that the safest place for me is here with all this security,” Franny managed. “Audra has enough on her plate even with your help, as do all of you. I’m staying put.”
Copeland eyed Royal. “Well, if anything changes, you let me know.”
“Was it a man or woman?” Royal asked, seemingly out of the blue. “The person who got the library card.”
Copeland looked at Royal. There was distrust in his eyes, but eventually he answered. “Dahlia said it was a woman. I’m going to run the information she gave, but I don’t have much hope there. Why?”
“Just need to know who to look out for. Is there going to be a sketch?”
Copeland nodded. “She’s going to come by the police station this morning. I’ll make sure you and Mayfield get a copy of it, and whatever we work up on the ID, even if it’s fake.”
“As soon as you can,” Royal said. “And any other information you get.”
“I will. I need to get into the station. Walk me out, Deputy.”
Since Copeland didn’t say it as a request, Franny felt like she had to step in. Even if she felt a little out-of-body trying to wrap her mind around someone burning her books, she had to protect Royal from…whatever Copeland thought he was doing. “He’s not going to walk you out because you’re going to do some ridiculous male law enforcement posturing, and I don’t want any part of it.”
“That’s why we’re going to do it outside.”
“No, you’re not.” She put her hands on Copeland’s chest and gave him a shove. “Bye.”
He scowled down at her, but she watched him relent. “I’ll have those sketches to you as soon as I’ve got them, Campbell. Franny, if anything changes—”
“Bye, Copeland.”
“Bye,” he muttered, and turned on his heel and stalked out the door.
Franny locked the door behind him, then stayed staring at the door trying to breathe through the tears that threatened. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Royal. She wasn’t going to feel helpless when she had all these people looking out for her.
“Well, that’s…not great.” She turned and tried to smile at Royal. “But I guess it doesn’t change much for me. Does it?”
“It’s a step. Every time they do something, there’s a chance they leave clues behind. So, it’s actually good.”
“Good?” She wanted to believe that, but she knew he was mostly just saying it to set her mind at ease.
“Look, Franny, I have a theory. I’m going to work on getting to the bottom of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell Copeland this theory?”
Royal studied the door, then moved his gaze back to her. “I want to talk to Simmons first. It’s not that I don’t trust…your friend there. I just think we have to be more careful. Sometimes when a lot of people know something, even a lot of well-meaning cops, everything gets too complicated.”
“You trust Mr. Simmons?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to.”
Franny chewed on her bottom lip, trying to work through any of this, but… He had to get to work. And she should probably try to get some work done too. She unlocked the door, opened it for him, and tried to force her mouth to curve upward. “Thanks again for last night.”
He nodded, moving for the door. But he stopped, reached out, but his big hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay, Franny.”
“Of course,” she said brightly.
But she figured they were both lying.
* * *
ROYAL GOT READY in a rush. He tried not to think about how…down Franny had looked when he’d left. She had every right to be worried and down, and it wasn’t his job to cheer her up.
The fact he wanted to make it all right for her was completely and utterly foreign. He’d just never before believed he could make something awful right. Better maybe. Put a stop to something terrible. But not actually make it right.
She grinned. “I’ve got his rookie card. Signed now—though I didn’t ask until the wedding was over so as not to be crass.”
“Well, as long as you weren’t that.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got a baseball card collection?”
“Yes. At the ranch. I didn’t have room to store it here.” Which kept her from talking about all the other collections she had: unicorn figurines, antique toasters, her late grandmother’s gigantic salt and pepper shaker collection.
“Well, you’re going to have to show it off sometime.”
She really wished her heart would stop doing this fluttering thing. “Sure. Yeah. I… I better get started on those cookies. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen,” she said, turning back to the kitchen, hoping she had all the ingredients necessary. She knew she had chocolate chips and butter—she always had chocolate chips and butter.
She scrounged enough of everything together to create a kind of half batch. It was funny how much more relaxed she was with him there.
They were still being filmed. It didn’t change anything whether he was here or across the street watching, but it felt different. It felt safe. But once he ate some cookies she was going to have to let him go and that filled her with such dread.
Be a grown-up, Franny, she scolded herself as she pulled the cookies out of the oven. She piled them up on a plate.
“Here we…” She trailed off. He sat on her couch, head slightly bowed, though his arms were crossed over his chest. His breathing was steady and even and his eyes were closed.
She stared at him there, sleeping soundly in an upright position on her couch. Poor guy was working overtime just to keep her safe. She knew it was his job, but it still felt like he was going a little above and beyond.
She knew that wasn’t about her personally, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have gratitude. Surely not every police officer who would have been assigned to this job would be quite so…kind about it.
She should probably wake him up, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it when he seemed so deep in it. She’d just…let him sleep.
Selfish, Franny.
Maybe, but it made her feel better knowing he was there.
So she got some blankets, a pillow, and wrote a little note. Then she turned off the TV and left him there sleeping and went to bed herself.
With the cookies, of course.
* * *
ROYAL WOKE IN the dark, a sharp pain his neck, and a bunch of old, ugly memories prickling at the edges of his brain.
Had he really told Franny all that about himself? What the hell had possessed him?
Well, that was easy if uncomfortable. Sympathetic green eyes and that careful way she held herself. It reminded him of someone who’d been beaten—always waiting for the next blow. He didn’t think that was her issue. She probably would have mentioned it and not called her “health issues” trauma-lite. But there was something there. A vulnerability she wasn’t any good at shoring up.
He should not like her for that alone. You had to be tough to get through life, and she was just…soft.
And sweet.
He blew out a breath, stretching his neck to one side and then the other, before doing a full neck roll.
He didn’t have a clue how his life had twisted and turned to wind up here. It felt even more unimaginable when he said things like born into the Sons and she said things like engineer dad and math teacher mom.
Upper middle class for God’s sake.
They didn’t have a thing in common, and yet he found her endlessly fascinating. She was just…unique, and there was something about her curiosity, her bravery in the face of all this that life had in no way prepared her for, and the open vulnerability that drew those protective instincts he’d honed somewhere along the way.
You either wanted to protect or you wanted to be the monster. Those were the only two options in the life he’d been born into. He didn’t consider himself that great of a guy, but he’d never had any interest in being the monster. He supposed that was the only thing that had led him here.
That and Brooke. He’d learned to forgive his sister—and it wasn’t as though she’d done anything to him that she needed his forgiveness for. It was just he’d gotten through his adolescence and some of his young adulthood by blaming her, by thinking she’d had it better somehow. The grudge had been a crutch.
And it had taken some work to get over it, just like it had taken some work to accept all the people ready and willing to help him build a real life outside of everything that had happened to him and everything he’d done.
He knew those people were willing because of Brooke, but getting to know his sister as an adult these past two years had made him fully understand why anyone and everyone rallied around Brooke.
She was a good, kind person. It was at the very core of who she was. No time in the Sons or in a crappy foster home had dulled that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had it to be dulled.
Franny had it. It was the only explanation for him telling her about the Sons.
He’d seen the questions building up inside her, but she hadn’t voiced a one. She would, he thought. In the next few days, she wouldn’t be able to resist. He could have offered more, explained it deeper.
He’d wanted her to see only the surface of it. A stop sign.
Because it felt a bit like they were on a strange precipice. Neither quite sure what to do with each other. Both a little too…attracted.
Polar opposites. Maybe it made sense. Not that he should let it make sense. He should be erecting very clear boundaries to a very complicated and odd situation.
Instead, he had…fallen asleep on her couch. The lights were out but the glow from the microwave clock allowed him to make out the shadows of furniture. He could smell cookies, but the scent was faint.
Hell, how long had he been out? He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Four. He’d slept for like…at least six hours. He shook his head and clicked on the phone flashlight. On the coffee table in front of him were a stack of blankets and a pillow with a little piece of paper on top.
He picked up the note, read it in the light of his phone.
Royal,
I thought it best to let you sleep. Text me when you need to leave, and I’ll get up to set the security system. Otherwise, I set my alarm for six and I’ll wake you up so you can get to your shift. Feel free to use whatever you need. Bathroom is in the hall.
—Franny
Like he wouldn’t have known who’d written the note. Which made him smile, but not as much as the little PS at the end.
I’m sorry, but I ate all the cookies.
It was four in the morning. It’d be silly to wake her up now to set her security system. He might as well just try to get another hour or two of sleep on the couch.
He grabbed the pillow and tossed it behind him. He didn’t bother with the blanket. Even though he could hear the air-conditioning working, it was hot up here.
He lay back and stretched out. He was usually a little too big for a couch, but this was a good size. Cushy. The pillow smelled fresh and clean, kind of like her. He looked up at the dark ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? Getting in way too deep, that was for sure.
Which was just impetus to see this through. Get it done. Once Albennie Ward was found and it was certain Franny was out of danger, they’d go back to passing each other on the street or bumping into each other at the bakery every once in a while.
Things wouldn’t feel quite so…tenuous then. He was sure of it.
Almost.
Chapter Fourteen
Franny woke up to her alarm and groaned. She turned it off immediately wondering whose bright idea it was to set it for six in the damn—
She sat bolt right up in bed. If her alarm was going off, Royal had…slept on her couch. Had he woken up at some point and decided to stay? Or had he slept in that horrible upright position?
Was she going to have to wake him up? She couldn’t let him be late for work. Not after he’d been so kind as to stay.
God, she’d slept so much better knowing he was there. Did that make her pathetic? Well, she was alive and not kidnapped so maybe she didn’t care if she was a little pathetic.
What she did care about was having to go out there and wake him up. That was just…awkward.
But she could hardly let him be late for work. She threw the covers off her. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to tame it as she moved around trying to find some clothes. She didn’t have a mirror in here. Why didn’t she have a mirror in here?
Six in the morning was never her friend, so running around grabbing random items of clothes and then rejecting them wasn’t what she wanted to be doing, but usually she didn’t have to actually think before a cup of coffee.
She finally pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. She was about to open her door when she stopped herself.
“Bra. My God, Franny, put on a bra.” Thank God there were no cameras in here. She backtracked, put on a bra, and then took a deep breath, let it out.
This was not the panic-inducing moment she was making it out to be.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She heard the faint sound of movement and edged into the main area.
Royal was standing, looking at something on his phone—the light from it and the hint of early sunlight from around the blinds were the only things illuminating the room.
Unerringly he looked up at her when she took one more step.
She held her hand up in the most awkward wave of all time then turned the main overhead light on. She managed a smile, hoped it didn’t read as awkward as it felt. “Morning.”
“Morning,” he said, his voice gruff. Which was hot. Because he was hot. And she could not be thinking about that right now.
“I know it’s silly, but I slept way better knowing you were here, so I really appreciate your willingness to humor me.”
He shoved his phone in his pocket and put the pillow on the stack of blankets he hadn’t used. “I appreciate you not waking me up. Probably got a solid eight in. Your couch isn’t half bad.”
“Good.”
He made a gesture for the door. “I better get back to my place so I can be ready for my shift on time. Just text me if you plan on going somewhere. Sound good?”
She nodded.
Before he could move, or she could offer coffee or breakfast or something, a knock sounded at the door. They both looked at it, then froze. Neither making a move one way or another.
Maybe he was as little of a morning person as she was, because he didn’t immediately tell her what to do or do anything himself.
“Well, kidnappers don’t really knock, right?” She managed a shaky kind of laugh and moved for the door. “I’ll look out and see who it is.” She moved to her toes, looked out the peephole.
It was… Copeland. She fell to her heels. She didn’t dare look back at Royal. This looked… Well, surely Copeland wouldn’t jump to weird conclusions. He’d understand.
But she was nervous now. “Uh, it’s Copeland,” she offered. Then disengaged the alarm and unlocked the door.
“Franny, sorry for the…” His gaze tracked beyond her to Royal, his expression immediately hardening. “What the hell are you doing here at six thirty in the morning?”
“Protecting me,” Franny said firmly. She stepped between Copeland’s angry gaze and Royal. “Remember?”
“Yeah, how far is that going?” Copeland demanded of Royal.
“It’s not…going.” Franny couldn’t look at Royal or she’d turn beet red. “And even if it was, absolutely none of your business, Copeland.”
“Look—”
“I know you and Audra have a very sweet meet cute from protecting her, but this isn’t…that. So stop making things weird and explain to me why you are here at six thirty in the morning.”
He was still glaring at Royal, kind of like the older brother she never had, which was almost sweet. If she didn’t feel so damn embarrassed. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.
Then his gaze moved to her, and there was an alarming kind of…regret there. “I just got some…disturbing news. I wanted to tell you in person. Both of you. Didn’t imagine you’d both be together, but—” He sighed. “There was a fire this morning at the library in Sunrise. The fire department called me once they saw what was being burned.”
“Which was?” Royal demanded, speaking for the first time since Copeland stepped in the door.
“A stack of your books, Franny.”
She leaned against the door, slowly let out her exhale as if she could control her breath she could control the jump of fear in her chest. “Well, that’s not good.”
“If it was burned, how do they know they were Franny’s?” Royal asked.
“It’s possible they weren’t all Franny’s titles,” Copeland said. “But…there was enough left of some of the covers it feels…likely they all were. I talked to the librarian. You know Dahlia, right?” he asked Franny.
She nodded. She liked the librarian out in Sunrise. The library was tiny, but they had a lot of information on the Order of Truth, so she had spent some time there researching that book.
“She said all your books that the library carries were checked out the day before by someone who claimed they were new to Sunrise and got a library card. So, we’ve got something to go off of. But it is another threat, and I want you both aware of it.”
“Why the Sunrise library?” Royal asked. “The Bent County library in Fairmont would have more of her books, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, but if I had to guess, the size of the library worked in the suspect’s favor. No surveillance, minimal security. Dahlia can describe the person who got the library card to us, and she will, but…”
“It’ll be like me describing the kidnapper. It’ll do a fat lot of nothing,” Franny said with some level of disgust.
“Or it doesn’t. We just don’t know.” Copeland glanced at her. “I want you to be aware so you’re always making an informed decision. If you want to come to the ranch, or have Audra—”
“I think we all know and agree that the safest place for me is here with all this security,” Franny managed. “Audra has enough on her plate even with your help, as do all of you. I’m staying put.”
Copeland eyed Royal. “Well, if anything changes, you let me know.”
“Was it a man or woman?” Royal asked, seemingly out of the blue. “The person who got the library card.”
Copeland looked at Royal. There was distrust in his eyes, but eventually he answered. “Dahlia said it was a woman. I’m going to run the information she gave, but I don’t have much hope there. Why?”
“Just need to know who to look out for. Is there going to be a sketch?”
Copeland nodded. “She’s going to come by the police station this morning. I’ll make sure you and Mayfield get a copy of it, and whatever we work up on the ID, even if it’s fake.”
“As soon as you can,” Royal said. “And any other information you get.”
“I will. I need to get into the station. Walk me out, Deputy.”
Since Copeland didn’t say it as a request, Franny felt like she had to step in. Even if she felt a little out-of-body trying to wrap her mind around someone burning her books, she had to protect Royal from…whatever Copeland thought he was doing. “He’s not going to walk you out because you’re going to do some ridiculous male law enforcement posturing, and I don’t want any part of it.”
“That’s why we’re going to do it outside.”
“No, you’re not.” She put her hands on Copeland’s chest and gave him a shove. “Bye.”
He scowled down at her, but she watched him relent. “I’ll have those sketches to you as soon as I’ve got them, Campbell. Franny, if anything changes—”
“Bye, Copeland.”
“Bye,” he muttered, and turned on his heel and stalked out the door.
Franny locked the door behind him, then stayed staring at the door trying to breathe through the tears that threatened. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Royal. She wasn’t going to feel helpless when she had all these people looking out for her.
“Well, that’s…not great.” She turned and tried to smile at Royal. “But I guess it doesn’t change much for me. Does it?”
“It’s a step. Every time they do something, there’s a chance they leave clues behind. So, it’s actually good.”
“Good?” She wanted to believe that, but she knew he was mostly just saying it to set her mind at ease.
“Look, Franny, I have a theory. I’m going to work on getting to the bottom of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell Copeland this theory?”
Royal studied the door, then moved his gaze back to her. “I want to talk to Simmons first. It’s not that I don’t trust…your friend there. I just think we have to be more careful. Sometimes when a lot of people know something, even a lot of well-meaning cops, everything gets too complicated.”
“You trust Mr. Simmons?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to.”
Franny chewed on her bottom lip, trying to work through any of this, but… He had to get to work. And she should probably try to get some work done too. She unlocked the door, opened it for him, and tried to force her mouth to curve upward. “Thanks again for last night.”
He nodded, moving for the door. But he stopped, reached out, but his big hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay, Franny.”
“Of course,” she said brightly.
But she figured they were both lying.
* * *
ROYAL GOT READY in a rush. He tried not to think about how…down Franny had looked when he’d left. She had every right to be worried and down, and it wasn’t his job to cheer her up.
The fact he wanted to make it all right for her was completely and utterly foreign. He’d just never before believed he could make something awful right. Better maybe. Put a stop to something terrible. But not actually make it right.
