by Lisa Harris
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” She clutched the steering wheel. “Where am I going?”
“Drive, before someone calls the cops and they catch up.”
She thought that would be a good thing. Why had no one reported them already? Conroy was one step behind them, and he’d get here after Hollis and Frankie were gone. Will. No, she couldn’t allow herself to think about him. Dead. On the ground.
“Where am I going?”
“Toward Freeline.” Then Frankie’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Yeah, we’re on our way.” He listened for a long while.
Enough time for her mind to circle back around to the fact she’d recently been dragged into all this. Fact was, she’d lived in it. Hollis had wanted to be good. To earn love from everyone she cared about, and to prove that she was worthy of receiving it. Instead, they’d been plotting behind her back. Enraptured with their own selfish actions, and what they’d get out of all that.
They hadn’t cared about her one single bit. Only keeping her around for someone to use until she’d outlived that usefulness, and they got to throw her away, like Frankie had done with Sharleen.
No, that might not be completely true. Her mom had seemed to think she was at least trying to do the right thing for Hollis. But even after a lifetime of musing, Hollis didn’t think she’d understood the whole of it.
“Good.” Frankie’s barked word jolted her from her thoughts. It had sounded like an order almost. He followed it with, “Lock it down. I’ll be there in half an hour. I just gotta make sure we’re clear.”
He hung up the phone.
Hollis gritted her teeth. “I never knew you, did I? Just what you wanted me to see. And my mom?”
“Too busy with Athens to worry about me,” Frankie said. “Which is how I like it. Keeps business clean when your personal life stays out of it.” He paused. “Can’t decide whether to thank him before I kill him, or just shoot him dead.”
“Let me go.” She didn’t want to see another person get killed. There had been enough of that.
“Not until business is concluded.”
“What does that mean?”
Frankie said, “Soon as I’m done, you will be also.”
More tears fell, even though she would have sworn she’d cried them all out. Apparently, she hadn’t run dry yet. Her life was out of control. Help me. She needed a way out of this. Even though she’d tried to leave, things were so much worse now.
“I cried for you.” She took a breath and said, “I thought you were kidnapped, and I stuck around to help you. So that I could save you.”
He shook his head. “I never told you to care about me.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Time to get out of town. Only way to do that free and clear is if you’re along for the ride, and I wrap it all up neatly in a bow.”
“So you’re going to blame everything on me. Keep pretending you’re injured, too hurt to hurt anyone. That it?”
“It’s worked so far. No one even had a clue. Not even you.”
Hollis had been managed, kept in the dark and lied to all this time. He’d controlled her. The truth was, she’d let him do it. She hadn’t opened her eyes to see the truth. “It won’t work.”
She wouldn’t let it work.
There couldn’t be evidence. She hadn’t done anything.
“Like I said. No clue.” Then he lifted his hand holding the gun. She flinched, but he just said, “Take the next left. We’re making a stop.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Will said, “Thanks.” He turned and jogged back to where Eric stood talking with Conroy outside the gas station. “Maybe half an hour. That’s how long since they were here.”
Eric folded his arms. “So where would he take her?”
Conroy’s attention was on his cops, who were currently with a dead man, investigating the man’s recent murder. “Frankie.” His voice laced with the hard edge of frustration.
And yet, they’d all missed this.
The police chief scratched at his jaw and shook his head. “Athens said it was all Sharleen.”
“Now I’m thinking it was Frankie all along. Maybe she knew, maybe not. They’re all using misdirection to throw us off.”
Eric said, “Hollis knew, or her mom?”
Will shrugged. “Both. Either. The attendant said Frankie walked fine, maybe just a slight limp.” Unlike Will, whose leg seriously hurt even though Athens had only grazed him.
Conroy’s eyebrows rose. “But no crutches? No wheelchair.”
“Exactly.” Will said, “He killed Sharleen. Now he’s on the run. Sticking to roads and places they won’t be seen by too many locals or cops looking for them.” He didn’t like lumping Hollis in with her lying, murdering stepfather, but the fact was, if they found one, they found the other.
Where would Frankie take her?
He’d been undercover as a biker in this town for months. Had met a whole lot of unsavory people. Only, he had to try and remember if he’d ever seen Frankie outside of the diner. Or heard of him where it wasn’t all about the tragedy of his accident, and how his life would never be the same again.
But as West?
He’d certainly had the time to be about that bad guy life while Hollis ran the diner for him, because she thought he wasn’t able. If he’d been conning everyone all along, then there was likely plenty they didn’t know. Frankie had figured out how to live under the radar and fool nearly everyone. He’d hidden a murderous heart and had the deceit to pull off criminal conspiracy.
Will rubbed at the aching spot on his chest—which had nothing to do with his various wounds.
“I’ll go talk to Athens again,” Eric said. “Ask him about Frankie this time, instead of just Sharleen. See what he and his lawyer have to say.”
“Assuming it’ll be the truth.” Will wasn’t so sure it would be.
“Got a better idea?” his FBI handler said.
“Maybe.”
Thinking about the places he’d been and the people he’d met while he’d been undercover, made him wonder if he couldn’t move in those circles again. Flash Frankie’s picture around. Ask about him. Find out where he liked to go. What vices he had. Where he was likely to hide a stash of money or something else that would fund his escape.
“What are you thinking?”
Will said, “I need to go change clothes. And wipe the rest of the cover up off my neck.”
Conroy’s gaze drifted to the tattoo on his neck. Probably more visible than he knew, since he hadn’t looked in a mirror. “You think you can take Frankie down acting as your undercover persona?”
“I think I can get close enough to get eyes on Hollis and call it in.”
Eric slapped a hand down on his shoulder. “You’re gonna call for backup?”
“I can be taught.”
Conroy barked a short, sharp laugh.
Eric said, “Just one problem.”
Will turned to him, but said nothing.
“Those two guys tried to burn you alive? They knew you’re FBI. So how do you know you’re not putting your neck out there, about to get shot for your trouble?”
How did he tell Eric that he didn’t care about the case? Or himself. Just Hollis.
Eric must’ve read it on his face because he squeezed Will’s shoulder and then let go. “It’s dangerous.”
“So is her being with Frankie. We don’t know what he plans to do to her, and the longer I stand around here, the more chance he has to do it.”
“Good.” Conroy glanced at his phone. “No one’s been in and out of his place, so whatever he’s doing, it isn’t at his home.”
That ruled out one spot.
Now Will just had to figure out which of the hundred other possibilities was the one he should try first.
Eric shook his head. “I don’t like it. Either Athens or Frankie sent those guys. Means he knows you’re FBI.”
“I have to do this.”
Will walked away before
either of them could object.
Forty minutes later, he’d completed his transformation back into biker guy/bad guy and had made a few calls. Seemed something was going on. People he’d worked jobs with, who’d transported narcotics or weapons through town, were quiet. Too quiet.
Will climbed into his car and made one more call, even praying the guy would pick up. He needed to find Hollis. To know she was all right.
“Yo.”
Will tried not to sound eager. “What’s the word?”
“What do you mean?” The guy sounded cagey. Not a good sign, but given his vices, there could be a number of reasons why this local lowlife sounded like that. It didn’t only indicate he knew exactly who Will was. Or why he was calling.
Will said, “Need some cash. What’cha got for me?”
“Quiet night. I’ll call you, a coupla days maybe.”
“Ah, man.” Will dragged it out. “Got child support due. I need somethin’.” He sniffed.
The man was quiet for a long minute. Too long. Then he said, “Elm Street. The blue house. I’ll have somethin’ for you.”
Will hung up and drove. Please let this work. He couldn’t guarantee what he was doing would net a result. And certainly not that he wouldn’t wind up being shot for being a cop.
But if there was even a chance it would get Hollis back, then he was glad he’d been extensively trained to do exactly this. He’d worked undercover for years. He knew how to finesse situations.
Eric was right to be concerned about the risk. Which was why Will continued the prayer he’d started. He didn’t want to bargain with God, but if it got Hollis back, then he would promise literally anything to save her life.
He stuck a gun in the back of his belt, another at his ankle, just in case. Phone in his back pocket, because it would be faster to slide out than if it was at the front. Will wore his bulletproof vest. He didn’t care what it said about his opinion of the odds here. He just wanted intel on where Frankie might be, and where Hollis was at.
Will scanned the street for Frankie’s car but didn’t see it. What he did see was a tiny blue compact with a huge man in the front seat. Tate, a well-known, local private investigator, in a borrowed car. Any other day or time, he’d have laughed at the sight of the big man squashed in that tiny interior, but Tate was here to help. And this whole thing was no laughing matter.
Will was definitely not in the position to turn away Tate’s help. He opened his contact list at the name, “Tate.” Then locked his phone and slid it back in his pocket. If he had to make a call fast, he wanted the right number on screen as soon as he unlocked his phone.
Will and the private investigator had worked together before. Tate was a solid guy Will would be happy to have at his back.
He knocked twice on the door and let himself in. Jeans. Boots. T-shirt and leather jacket, two earrings and a spider tattoo. He hadn’t shaved, so that helped.
“Anyone here?”
“Kitchen!” The reply was slurred. His “friend” had been drinking, or he was on something else entirely.
Will stepped into the room. Quintessential biker, but undercover FBI. Usually he’d try to become the person he was pretending to be, as a method actor did with a part. Tonight? He didn’t even bother. The guy was two sheets to the wind. He wouldn’t even notice or appreciate Will’s fabulous acting abilities. “Whatcha got goin’ on?”
The other man had cargo pants on and a threadbare gray sweater. He blinked with yellowed eyes. “It is you.” Shook his head and greasy hair fell over his forehead. “Thought I dreamed that call.”
He tried to hide that he was reaching for a gun, but Will wasn’t dumb. “Don’t.”
The other man sighed.
Will said, “All I want is information, but if you wanna trade that with the DA for a reduced sentence congruent with whatever I find in this house, that’s up to you.” He just didn’t have long enough to go through the paperwork for an official deal, so he decided to state plain his business here. “I’m not here for you. I just want Frankie.”
His head jerked back. “Nah. Nope. You don’t touch Frankie.” He pushed out a breath and cursed. “I thought this was about those two girls Athens put upstairs.”
It is now.
“What I do with Frankie,” Will said, “is my business.”
“You’ll get dead. What do I care?”
Behind the man, on the dirty counter, were several items that indicated what he’d been sniffing up his nose right before Will walked in.
He wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing it. But, like every time, it turned his stomach. He’d probably never get used to being this close to people getting high while he had to fake he was doing the same. If he did get used to it, he’d have to quit right at that moment. This life couldn’t change him.
He wouldn’t let it.
“So, tell me where to find him. He’s West, right? Or close enough.”
The other man snorted. He seemed to have forgotten he’d just handed Will another whole case, if there really were two girls being held upstairs. The man said, “West. Cracks me up.”
“Cause Frankie has the cops all chasing their tails looking for a ghost. Right?”
He smirked.
“Give me Frankie. I’ll get you what you want.”
Will was a cop, through and through. This was what he’d been born to do. He was the guy who waded into the darkness and dragged the truth out into the light. Whether it wanted to be exposed, or not. His dad might not understand his wildness, but Will knew more now than ever before, that he was exactly the person to do this.
The one to save Hollis from the swill she’d been born into. The selfish ambition and complete disregard for her safety. Sharleen had been bad enough. But if Frankie really was the one they wanted arrested as West, then he was so much worse.
It was hard to say what all Frankie had done, given everything that had been attributed to his name. Will knew for sure that he’d have physical evidence that Frankie killed Sharleen, and Hollis would likely testify to the rest of it.
Slam dunk.
But why didn’t that make him feel better?
Right. Because he might be here as an undercover FBI agent, but he was also here as the man determined to get Hollis free of these people. Free of the lies they fed her all those years. Her entire life, a scam.
Save her. He wanted to do it, but it was God who was a sure thing. He was the one to bank on. No question. Will had sung about it at Bible camp. I believe.
If God saved her, he’d follow Him. Whatever it took. Faith would be worth it.
“Can’t just talk. Make a deal? Can’t do that.” The man’s expression darkened. “Ain’t no way I get what I want anyway, so what’s the point?”
“Then just tell me where he is. No one will ever know it was you who talked.”
He made a pfft sound with his lips, losing some spit in the process. “Think I’m gonna trust a cop?”
Will shrugged. It really had been worth a try. “Where is West?”
“Right here.” The voice was female, making his heart sink into his chest.
Because Hollis walked into the room. She was so pale. Hair falling out of her bun, strands tickling the sides of her face. Hugging her broken arm to her front. Blood on her jacket.
Behind her, Frankie. Holding a gun. Looking nothing like the man he’d seen come in the diner. No crutches. No wheelchair. All this time he’d been hiding this?
And now he held Hollis’s life in his hands.
Pointing a gun at the back of her head.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Frankie used the end of his gun to shove her into the kitchen. Will shifted, his arms opening. Hollis didn’t think about it. She ran into the circle of his embrace like she could hide there from everything happening.
Will held her for a second, then turned and placed her behind him to shield her with his body. She slid her one usable arm around his waist from behind and held on.
He laid his arm over he
rs, making her stand tight against him. “Whatever you’ve got going on,” he told Frankie, “just do it. Leave the two of us out of it.”
As he spoke, he reached back and tapped his back pocket.
Hollis saw the phone.
She slid it out and swiped to unlock. No fingerprint, no pattern, no code. Those only slowed a person down when their life was in danger.
On the screen, Tate’s contact was cued up. Hollis started typing a text.
“Get whatever that is.”
She’d barely registered the words before the phone was snatched out of her hand. Will capitalized on the distraction to shove at the friend who’d been in the room with him, and then he punched the guy to the floor. All that, without barely moving. Just a quick twist of his hips and shoulders before rotating them back. She thanked God for all his years of combat training.
“She’s tryna call out.”
Hollis pressed her lips together. Will was so big, she could barely peer over his shoulder at Frankie. “What do you expect? You’ve already killed two people, and we’re probably next.”
“Nah. Doesn’t fit the narrative that you’d kill Mr. FBI here.” Frankie shrugged one shoulder, holding the gun pointed at Will’s chest. “Not when you’re obviously in on all of this together.”
Her stepfather suddenly looked unrecognizable to her. He sneered at Will, gun still trained on him, and continued to craft his own account of what went down, “He keeps the cops busy, off your tails, see.” He flicked his wrist so that now his gun pointed at Hollis. “You kill Sharleen and try to take the stash, so you can make your getaway. Me? I’m injured, but somehow manage to escape your clutches.” His satisfied smile sickened her.
She shook her head. “Who are you?”
The words escaped her lips before she could think it through. Will’s hand on her arm flexed, a show of solidarity—or his attempt to tell her to shush. But, how could she? This man wasn’t the stepdad she’d known for years. Someone she’d tried desperately to get close to, her only shot at a “parent.” Or so she’d thought. He was no more a parent to her than Sharleen was. She could see that now.
