Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Frankie juggled her grocery bags as she made her way up the stairs toward her third-floor studio apartment just outside of town. She didn’t feel like cooking tonight, and she didn’t have the money to eat out.
Good thing she hadn’t been hungry lately.
With the evidence she’d gathered about the mayor’s questionable dealings, she felt sick to her stomach most of the time, worrying she’d be found out.
Her goal was to remain as cheerful as possible at work so he wouldn’t suspect anything, but remaining upbeat and acting as she always had around her boss, even when she was belittled, was taking a toll.
The only reason she put up with his slimy personality was that she needed the job.
Yesterday at work, she about jumped out of her chair when Mayor Benson dropped his water bottle.
She needed to calm down and focus on her work.
A chill crawled up her spine as she approached her apartment door. It was open. She backed up and set her bags down, then grabbed the mace from her purse and listened. She inched forward toward her unit and peered inside. Her stomach dropped.
Her small studio apartment was trashed. Her kitchen drawers were yanked out.
Couch cushions slashed open and thrown aside.
Framed photos on her wall were shattered, glass glittering across the carpet like ice.
Someone wanted what she’d taken, and she was glad she had handed it over to Madison.
Tears gathered in her eyes and she began to shake.
Her pulse roared in her ears. She pulled her phone out from her back pocket, hands trembling, and dialed 9-1-1.
The call was picked up almost immediately. “Nine-one-one—”
“Please, my apartment’s been broken into,” Frankie said, just above a whisper. “Everything’s—everything’s destroyed.”
The dispatcher told her not to enter her home and to remain on the line. Frankie sank onto the floor across the hall, arms wrapped around herself as she waited. Minutes later, red-and-blue lights flashed through the building’s upper front windows. Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell.
“Frankie?” a familiar voice called as an officer stepped onto the third-floor landing.
She looked up. “Kevin?” Relief softened the panic in her voice.
The last time she’d seen Kevin—or Sawyer, as everyone else referred to him—they’d been laughing awkwardly at their fifth-class reunion. Now he stood in uniform, hand on the weapon at his waist. “Frankie, are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough with concern.
She nodded, her throat dry. “I wasn’t here when it happened. I—I just got home.”
“Wait here.” He stepped inside, boots crunching over glass. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, his face darkening as he scanned the wreckage.
After clearing the small apartment, he joined her in the hallway. “It’s clear. They tore your place apart.”
“I can see that,” she whispered, clutching her arms tighter around herself while standing in the doorway.
“Any idea who would do this?” His eyes searched hers, steady and kind.
She looked away. The manila envelope flashed in her mind—the one she’d slipped to Madison.
If they were willing to break into her home, they must be desperate to get back the information she’d gathered.
Frankie knew Sawyer to be a kind and gentle soul, but he was also the mayor’s nephew.
She didn’t believe he’d have anything to do with his uncle’s nefarious acts, but she couldn’t risk telling him her suspicions. Not yet.
“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “No idea.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened, and she caught the flicker of doubt in his expression as he scribbled notes in his notebook. He didn’t believe her. Not entirely.
This was her fault, she thought. She’d started this chain reaction. She shouldn’t have taken what she had. The randomness of what she gave Madison didn’t make much sense to her but obviously, she had something someone wanted back. Was Madison safe? How did anyone know she had copied the files?
She decided to play dumb. “I don’t have anything worth stealing.” She gestured toward her ten-year-old television. “I don’t have expensive jewelry. No coin collections or anything of value. I don’t know why someone would do this to me.”
She didn’t know if the mayor was responsible or if she would be safe at work, but when she returned, she’d act as if she didn’t know why anyone would ransack her place—maybe that would throw off the mayor.
“I’ll file the report,” Sawyer said quietly. “Sheriff Reid will want to be notified. Do you have somewhere safe you can stay tonight?”
“I’ll be fine,” Frankie insisted, though her voice shook with fear as her eyes darted around the room.
He didn’t argue, but his frown deepened.
Sawyer clocked out after his shift, but his unease lingered. He couldn’t shake the image of Frankie’s pale face, the tremor in her voice. She wasn’t telling him everything, and that scared him more than the trashed apartment.
They hadn’t been close in school, but they saw each other at City Hall now and then, and they’d exchanged numbers at their class reunion. He sent a text:
You doing okay?
He paused, then typed some more and hit send.
It’s Sawyer.
He was an idiot. Could he be any less cool?
I’m okay. Cleaning. Thanks for coming so quickly today.
Frankie finished cleaning her small apartment, salvaging what she could, and stacked garbage bags at the door to take to the trash in the morning.
There was a knock at her door, one rap followed by two more in quick succession. She startled. Breathe, Frankie. In. Out. She looked through the peephole. Sawyer stood with a grocery bag in hand.
“Hey, Frankie, it’s Sawyer,” he called.
She looked down and cringed. She had on her most comfy comical dog pajama pants and a tank top. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. Should she answer the door? Did she want Sawyer to see her like this? He could probably hear me breathing.
She opened the door.
“Hey, Sawyer, what are you doing here? Do you need to look around again? Need something else for your report?”
“No, I’m off duty,” he said, holding up the bag. “I thought you might need some comfort food. I brought ice cream. My sister always eats a pint when she’s stressed or sad.”
“That’s so sweet. Thank you. Come on in.”
He glanced around the room. “You’ve got everything cleaned up. I hoped I’d be here in time to help you.”
“I just finished. All I’ve got left to do is take out the trash in the morning.”
“I’ll bring it down now.” He gathered the three garbage bags. “I’ll be right back. Lock the door while I’m gone.”
Sawyer scanned the area as he made his way to the dumpsters behind the apartment building.
The sun hadn’t gone down yet so there was still enough light, but Frankie was smart not to venture out here alone.
He listened and took note of his surroundings, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
Birds chirped and a cat strolled by. The closest apartment had its windows open and the television volume up; the theme song from The Big Bang Theory drifted out into the evening air.
When Sawyer returned, he knocked the same way, one followed by two more.
He wanted Frankie to know it was him. He didn’t want to freak her out like he had when he knocked the first time.
He could tell from the way she’d stood silent by the door for a beat before answering that she was a little jumpy.
“Thanks for taking the garbage down,” she said.
“You bet.”
“It’s been a long day, Sawyer. Thanks for the treat.”
Even though he would have liked to join her for ice cream, he understood her not wanting to entertain him. “I get it. I’ll head out.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m done cleaning and just want to relax the rest of the night. Would you like to join me? I have plenty of ice cream,” she said with a chuckle.
“I’d love to.”
“Good. Although I hope you don’t mind that I had to duct-tape the couch cushions. It’ll have to do until I can pick up a new one. It should still be comfortable enough.”
“I’m sorry about all this.”
“It’s not your fault. Come on. Which kind is your favorite?” She gestured to the four pints of Ben and Jerry’s on the small island. She gathered two spoons and some napkins.
“You choose first,” he said.
She reached for the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
He chose the Chocolate Fudge Brownie.
They settled on the couch and watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory.
Sawyer stole glances at Frankie when she wasn’t looking. He’d always liked her—her quiet smile, her outgoing and playful personality, and the way she never looked down at him even when everyone else did.
But tonight, all he felt was protective fury. Someone had come after her. And if his gut was right, it was connected to his uncle. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly, but there were small things that didn’t sit right—not since Madison started asking questions.
After three episodes of Sheldon and Amy’s relationship blossoming, and having polished off their respective pints, Sawyer noticed Frankie had fallen asleep. He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Frankie, try to get some sleep. Please call me if you need me.”
She stood and smoothed out her hair as she walked him to the door.
“Lock up behind me,” he said. “Good night, Frankie.”
“Good night, Kevin.”
Sawyer drove down the street, turned around and parked directly across from her apartment with his lights off, and kept watch in his truck.
If the perpetrators came back, he’d be ready.
And in the morning, he’d pay a visit to his uncle.
He’d start an investigation on his own if he had to.
He’d play it smart, act frustrated with Sheriff Nick Reid, feed his uncle just enough to loosen his tongue.
He was done pretending his uncle was just a tough politician. Tonight had proven what he’d suspected all along: His uncle was corrupt, and he was dangerous. And Sawyer was going to find out exactly how deep his corruption went.