Chapter Nine
Franny had a bit of a struggle getting into the swing of things once she got back to her apartment.
If she was back at the ranch, she’d be dissecting that moment outside the bakery with Royal second by second with Audra and Rosalie. Except Rosalie didn’t live at the ranch anymore and Audra would be cozied up to Copeland where she belonged.
So Franny only had herself to go over that moment outside the bakery. He’d been flirting with her. She was almost certain he’d been flirting.
Right?
Then he’d asked her…to buy him a coffee. Which wasn’t a date. He would be on duty. It was just…
Oh, she didn’t know.
And since she didn’t know—what to do about Royal, Albennie, Feds and cops alike, she figured she’d focus in on the one thing she did know.
Her book. So she made herself a decently healthy dinner, then settled down at her desk like a grown-up, and got to work.
And work she did. The words were flowing. She didn’t even pay attention to the time. She wanted to ride this wave of everything making sense. And being within her control. No outside world allowed to invade.
But eventually…the words petered out, and she was yawning more than she was getting words down. She noted the time—well after midnight. The entire room around her was dark except for the light of her computer. Man, she hadn’t been that in the zone in a while. It felt good.
But if she was going to get up early enough to meet Royal for coffee, she was actually going to need to set an alarm. And she needed to get some sleep so she didn’t look like a total zombie in the morning.
Not that it mattered if she did or not, since it wasn’t a date. He was working a case. The end.
She picked up her phone and started to head to the kitchen to get a drink of water, but that’s about when she noted the odd noise.
It sounded like…scratching? At the door? She frowned. Had someone’s cat gotten loose and was trying to get in?
You might as well throw a grenade in her apartment as allergic as she was to cats. Did she even know where her antihistamine was? She did have an inhaler in the bathroom, and one in her purse, so that was good.
And she wasn’t going to let a cat in anyway, so what was she worrying about? She shook her head.
But something was definitely scratching at her door.
Just a cat, she assured herself, but… Why would a cat climb the stairs and scratch at her door? She crept closer to the door, put her eye to the peephole.
She couldn’t see anything. Probably because it’s dark, Franny. But usually there was a little hint of the security light over by the antique store when she looked through the peephole at night.
Maybe it was out. She almost never looked out the peephole, so maybe she’d been imagining a light before. Thinking it was anything sinister was overreacting.
Except a woman was kidnapped from this exact place just a few days ago.
Still… She looked down at her phone. 911 was over-the-top for some scratching at her door when she couldn’t tell what it was. And she wasn’t about to open the door and find out.
Maybe there was some sort of nonemergency line at the sheriff’s department she could call. Ask for…advice? Or…
She opened the contact and pulled up Royal’s number. She could just text him. Or even call him and just ask him to glance over at her place from his window and see what was making that noise at her door.
She’d almost talked herself out of it when the doorknob seemed to…creak, like it had moved…ever so slightly.
Her heart leaped into her throat, and she backpedaled into her room—closing the door and locking it too. She leaned against the door, fear making her feel numb. She managed to hit Call on Royal’s number.
It rang four times and she was about to hang up and call 911, embarrassment be damned, when a rough, sleepy voice answered.
“’lo.”
She’d clearly woken him up and felt like a complete ass. “Hi, sorry. It’s late. Sorry.”
There was a beat of silence, then two. “Franny?” he asked, like he wasn’t quite sure.
And why would he be sure? She’d woken him up. It was the middle of the damn night. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, I think… I think someone is like…at my door, or something.” Her heart was beating triple time, and she could hardly hear him over the sound of it so loud in her ears.
“What?”
“I almost called 911, but I’m not sure. It could be a cat. A dog. The wind? But it just…won’t stop and I thought well… I have your number and you can look over and see. And if no one is there, I can just…curl up in a ball and only be embarrassed in front of you.”
She heard the sound of rustling and movement. “Someone is trying to break into your place?”
“No. I don’t know. There’s just this noise at my door, and then the knob kind of moved and… Everything is locked and—”
“It’s too dark.” His voice was firm and with it now, no sleepy notes to it. “I can’t see anything. Look, I’m going to have to hang up, but you stay where you are. I’m coming over.”
“Oh, don’t—”
But the connection ended. And even though she felt silly for calling him over, she was relieved he was coming and taking her paranoia seriously.
She really wanted it to be paranoia.
ROYAL GRABBED HIS GUN, shoved his feet into the unlaced boots by his door and ran down the stairs to the street.
Before he’d even crossed the street to Franny’s side, he heard the rumble of an engine getting farther and farther away. No lights anywhere, but if someone had been trying to get into Franny’s apartment, they likely would have kept their car lights off.
Cursing, he sent a text to the night shift deputy asking him to be on the lookout for a car driving around without its lights on. Gun in hand, he moved swiftly and silently to Franny’s stairs. It was dark, but he didn’t see so much as a shadow or hear anything either.
Figuring a knock would unnecessarily scare her, he sent her a text to let him in the door.
It took a few seconds, but eventually she did. She was still dressed in the shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing at the bakery this afternoon.
“No one here,” he said. He didn’t have his holster on, so he couldn’t put the gun away. He could see her worried gaze on it, but there was nothing he could do in the moment.
“No one,” she echoed looking into the night around them. “I’m just…being paranoid. I’m so—”
Before she could apologize again, he steamrolled over her.
“I don’t think so. I heard an engine. Already on their way out of town when I got out.
But there’s not usually much going on this time of night.
Doesn’t feel like a coincidence. I texted our night shift guy and he’s on the lookout.
We’ll see if he comes up with anything.”
“So someone was really…”
He could hear her panic, so he thought it best to give her something concrete to do. “You got a flashlight? I left mine back at my place.”
“Just my phone.”
“That’ll do for now. Give me some light on the outside of the door.”
She did as she was told, training the light on the outside knob. Royal didn’t touch the door, but he studied it. There were some scratches around the keyhole but that could have been from anything—including Franny herself not always getting the key in the first time.
He looked around at the little landing outside her door. “Anything look out of the ordinary?”
She took her time, shining the flashlight on different things. The light bobbled a little bit, but she was mostly keeping it together.
He saw it before she did, a little piece of paper tucked under her cheerful doormat. The light left the corner, but before he could ask her to bring it back, she did, focusing the beam on that piece of paper.
“That… I don’t think that was there,” she said.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any rubber gloves?”
“Uh, no.”
“All right. Close the door. Lock the door. I’m going to go grab what I need. I’ll text you when to let me back in, okay?”
She looked around helplessly, and Royal didn’t know what else to do except give her arm a little squeeze, a little centering. “It’s going to be okay. Just follow my instructions, all right?”
She nodded.
He stepped back from the door and waited for her to close it. She did, and he waited to hear the lock click.
Once it did, he jogged down the stairs, nearly tripping over his untied laces halfway down. Cursing himself but not wanting to stop and bother with tying them, he hurried back to his place.
He needed some stuff from his gun belt. And to put some real clothes on. The athletic shorts and unlaced boots combo wasn’t exactly a professional look, but he was hardly going to put on his full clown outfit in the middle of the night.
It was too hot for a hoodie, so he grabbed the first T-shirt his hand landed on and pulled it on. Found some socks and put them on awkwardly as he went to his belt and grabbed it. Rather than fasten it around his waist he just carried it, shoving his gun into the holster.
He jogged back across the street, this time having the presence of mind to lock his own apartment up first, then he kept an eye out for movement or sound.
Nothing. With his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket when it dinged. It was a text from the night shift deputy that he read as he climbed Franny’s stairs again.
Haven’t seen a soul.
Royal inwardly cursed, then pulled up his messages with Franny and told her to open the door.
She did so right away, light from her apartment spilling out. He handed her his gun belt. “Hold that.”
“It’s heavy,” she muttered when she nearly dropped it. But he ignored her. He’d already gotten the gloves out of the belt. He pulled them on, then picked up the piece of paper.
It was actually more like an index card. Folded in half. Royal unfolded it. The print on the card looked like it was from a typewriter. He frowned at the odd conglomeration of codes and words.
There were some numbers and letters in the upper left-hand corner that didn’t make any sense. Then: Perkins, F.M. Underneath it was the phrase Dead in the River. Before he could read the rest, Franny spoke.
“It’s a card catalogue card.”
“What’s that?”
“They used to have them in libraries so people could find books and where they were shelved.” Her voice was weird. Kind of flat. “That one’s for my first book. Dead in the River. It’s my book.”
“Oh, so it’s yours? You just dropped it?” He held it out to her.
She shook her head, refused to take it. “I only even know what a card catalogue is because I took a library class in college. I’ve certainly never seen one for my books. They don’t really use them anymore. They’re obsolete.”
“So… This card for your book isn’t yours, but it’s somehow under your doormat? After you heard someone messing with your door? In the middle of the night?”
She audibly swallowed, looking up at him with big green eyes. Fear the predominate emotion there. She nodded.
It wasn’t a threat exactly, but it sure felt like one. “We’re going to have to go into the station.”