Chapter Twenty
Franny stopped on a dime. Royal’s expression was so serious her heart had leaped to her throat. And his grip on her arm was tight. This was an order, through and through.
Danger.
He was frowning at the door as he studied it, keeping his grip on her even though she’d immediately stopped her forward progress.
“See here,” he said, pointing to the frame around the latch with his free hand. “That splintering wasn’t there before. I studied this lock the first time someone tried to break in. This wasn’t here.”
She noticed the crack in the door frame now that he pointed it out, but she wasn’t sure it hadn’t been there before. She’d never paid much attention to the door frame. “Are you sure?” She glanced up at him.
He was sure.
He took her by the elbow, cop gaze moving around as if assessing a threat in every air molecule. “Come on.” He led her down the stairs, then across the street, then up the stairs to presumably his apartment.
“What do you think…” But the question died before she could get it out. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he thought. The idea of someone getting into her apartment was scary enough, but trying to look like they hadn’t been in there?
Definitely worse.
They made it to his door, but he didn’t immediately unlock it. He studied that too.
He shook his head. “Someone’s been in here too. Trying to break in or succeeding.” He turned in a slow circle on the landing. His gaze zeroed in on something at the bottom of the door. He released her enough to crouch, study it.
“What is it?”
When he didn’t speak, her heart started to thud harder, because to her it looked like a smear of…blood. She swallowed. Why would there be a smear of blood going into his apartment?
“Royal?”
He stood slowly. He didn’t seem at all panicked, even though that’s what was starting to hammer in her chest. His blue gaze was intense, but she didn’t see even one ripple of fear in it.
“I’m going to take you to… I’ll take you to Simmons. He’s got that big-ass house. He can keep you hidden away.” He’d already grabbed her again and was pulling her back down the stairs.
She jerked her arm away halfway down the stairs. “No.”
He looked up at her from where he stood a few stairs down. “Franny, I’m not sure what’s going on. I need to get you somewhere safe. This isn’t safe anymore.”
“If this is dangerous, and it sure as hell seems dangerous if that was blood, I’m not going near anyone’s kids.”
“Okay, fair.” He shoved a hand through his hair, the first sign this was more than a simple decision for him. “What about your cousin’s ranch?”
She didn’t really want to pull Audra into the middle of this either, but Audra did know how to shoot a gun. If they were in danger, Audra could at least defend herself. It felt safer than going to Mr. Simmons with his adorable kids around.
“If we’re to our last resort,” Franny said very carefully, wishing she could come up with something else. “We can go to my cousin’s ranch.” Blood did feel kind of…last resort. A very bad last resort.
“We might just be getting there.” He was back to pulling her along. She could certainly follow him without the hand on her arm, but it was a kind of nice having some kind of anchor.
He wouldn’t like that either, would he? Him being her anchor. He wouldn’t trust it. But right now, in the midst of danger, neither one of them had the time to consider that.
“What do you think is happening, Royal?” she asked him once they were in his car—his personal one, not his cruiser. He was still in his uniform though. He was still a cop, but she knew taking this car meant he was acting as Royal Campbell, not anyone’s deputy.
His expression was grim. “I’m not sure, but nothing good, Franny. Nothing good at all. Someone broke into your apartment and mine, bypassing all security systems. There’s blood on my stoop. I have a bad feeling if we’d gone in there, we’d have found…worse.”
“We need to tell Mr. Simmons. It’s his security system. You don’t think he…”
“No, I don’t think he’s got anything to do with this. Not on purpose anyway. You’re right. We need to tell Simmons. And Beckett. Someone was in our apartments for a reason, and I can’t imagine it was a good one.”
“You drive. I’ll handle telling them.”
He flicked her a glance, then nodded. “Text. That way they can’t try to argue with you about what we should do.”
“Good thinking. But what…are we doing?”
He drove. “I’m working on it.”
ROYAL DROVE WITHOUT a full idea of what his destination was. He had to work out what had just happened.
There would have been more blood inside his apartment. Not his. Not Franny’s. That was something. But why blood at all?
He thought about the splintering on Franny’s door frame.
It had been obvious—maybe not to a layman, but someone had to know she had police protection.
The break-in at his place was way less obvious, the smear of blood inconsequential.
He wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking because of Franny’s apartment.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been a kind of trap. That he was meant to notice Franny’s place had been compromised. Rush to his and…
Something bad was inside. He knew that without going in. But what he wasn’t sure of was the purpose. A threat? Maybe he should have checked it out, but with Franny…
No, best to leave to someone else. Beckett could handle it. Royal had to admit he was coming around to trusting Beckett.
“Mr. Simmons is going to check the security,” Franny said, reading from her phone. “I gave him permission to access all the footage. He’ll text me back when he’s gotten something. Copeland, on the other hand…”
“Wants us to come into the station,” he finished for her. No surprises there.
“Yeah.”
Maybe it was best. Maybe it only felt wrong because of his old gang-member, knee-jerk responses, but the sheriff wanting to pull Franny’s security still irked. Going back to a place where they thought she should be fine whether they knew if the kidnapper was in jail or not felt wrong.
Still, she’d be safe there. Surrounded by cops and all those detectives she knew. If he dropped her there, slipped away to handle this…she’d be safe. Beckett could make sure of it. He glanced at her as he drove down the mostly empty highway in the opposite direction of Bent.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were full of trust. And panic, but underneath that panic and worry was trust. He didn’t deserve it.
But her words from this morning kept coming back to him. How much belief and trust she had in him. No, she didn’t know his past.
But she did know his present. And she was so…smart. So intuitive. Couldn’t he trust her instincts better than his own?
Maybe he didn’t deserve her trust, her belief, her thinking he was good or brave, but maybe… Maybe he could be all those things because she did think them of him.
Maybe he had to be.
“It’s not a bad idea to go to the police station,” he said, his voice gruff. “The sheriff won’t be able to ignore the fact someone broke into your place. That’s a crime. You could officially report it, and we could just…stay put until we have more information.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror, ready to make a U-turn on the highway, head back to Bent and trust the establishment he’d bought into when he became a cop. How was he ever supposed to move forward if he was still thinking like a scared teenager who couldn’t trust anyone or any system?
That wasn’t why he’d stayed put near Brooke, his only family.
That wasn’t why he’d gotten through the police academy or applied at Bent.
He’d taken all those steps as part of an acceptance that he was an adult now.
He had the power, and he wanted to use that power to help where he could—in a way that mattered.
Good and brave.
But he caught a flash of another car in that rearview mirror. He might not have thought anything of it, but a car that same color silver had pulled onto the highway as he’d left Hope Town proper. He thought it had turned off back at the exit to Bent County, but it was still there.
Far enough away to be a tail.
Or it’s a different car, or some old lady driving at the speed of molasses. Don’t jump to conclusions. This isn’t the Sons.
Since the coast was clear, he made the U-turn. If that person followed them back the other direction, then he’d know for sure. And if they did—he’d be headed to the police station. If they didn’t, well, he was getting Franny to safety either way.
Franny’s phone pinged. “It’s another text from Copeland. He says, ‘Second thought, don’t come to the police station. Dead body of kidnapper found.’” Franny looked up at him wide-eyed.
“Well, we’re good then. He’s dead and we’re on our way to the station. You can ID him and…”
Franny cleared her throat. “There’s more, Royal.” Her voice shook. “They found the body…in your apartment.”
Yeah, definitely not good.