In Wyoming.
But he hadn’t been with the other federal agents yesterday. Was he some kind of…supervisor? Was Albennie part of some… FBI thing? A cult? It would explain some weirdness.
But not the sheriff department weirdness.
Did Lia know about Mr. Simmons? It clearly wasn’t a secret if it was easily searched on the internet, but had anyone in Hope Town put it together? Was Franny the only one out of the loop, or was everyone?
Franny glanced at the time on her computer. It was nearly seven now. Would the bakery open today? Would it be bustlingor empty? If empty, she could maybe get some face time with Lia, but ifshewas Lia, she’d damn well be taking the day off.
She didn’t think Lia was the type.
Well, there was only one way to find out. She pushed the laptop away and went to get dressed.
Sleeping be damned.
ROYAL SURVEYED THEapartment Simmons had led him into. It was above an empty storefront and across the street from the bakery and Franny Perkins’s second-story apartment. If he looked out the big window in the living room, he could watch the comings and goings of both.
He could even see a little sliver of the parking lot behind the bakery building. He wouldn’t be able to see the comings and goings out the back of the building, but he could see any car that came in or out of the parking lot if he was watching.
“It’s a nice place. Updated,” Simmons was saying. “But if you have any issues, you can call the number on the fridge. Mr. Poole handles any fix-it stuff around here. Obviously if there’s something going on with the case, I’ll want to know.”
“Last time I checked, I report to the sheriff, not you,” Royal replied without any heat.
The man didn’t get offended, and also didn’t offer an argument. He looked at his watch, edgier than he’d been yesterday. Not quite so cool and calm—not soFBI-like.
Instead, he was fidgety. Like he was waiting for something.
“Got somewhere to be, Simmons?”
He looked up at Royal. There was a moment’s hesitation, then a shrug. “My wife is waiting on me downstairs. I forgot we were getting family pictures today. Felt like a normal thing to do instead of worry about Albennie. So this is a quick stop before we head into Fairmont.”
Wife? Family pictures? Zach Simmons having a real life? It didn’t quite compute.
But before Royal could come up with something to say tothat, he heard the distinct sounds of footsteps on stairs. And a baby crying.
Simmons swore. “Give me a sec.” He opened the front door, and on the other side of it was a woman. She had long blond hair pulled back in a clip and a screaming baby with a giant bow on her head in her arms.
She didn’t look like she did on stage, but Royal recognized her immediately anyway.
“Zach, I’m losing it.” She shoved the baby at Simmons, then gave Royal a pinched smile over Zach’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but this one is a daddy’s girl, and she’s driving me insane.”
Royal blinked at her once. Twice. “You’re…” He didn’t finish the sentence. She knew who she was.
But she did flash him a grin this time, maybe because the baby had in fact immediately quieted once she’d tucked her head into Simmons’s neck.
“See?” she said, jabbing a thumb in the air toward the baby. “You do the work of carting them around in your body for nine months, shove them out and this is how they repay you.”
Royal knew he shouldn’t say it. Heknewhe should sound less like a moron, but something had short-circuited in his brain, probably seeing one of his favorite singers in person. “You’re Daisy Delaney.”
She winked at him. “In the flesh. I go by Lucy Simmons around these parts though. What’s your name, Deputy?”
Daisy Delaney was asking his name, and since he was still in some kind of shock, he answered. “Royal Campbell.”
“Royal. That’s a cool name. I like it. And the tattoos.”
“All right,” Simmons said, a mixture of irritation and affection in his voice. “Let’s go.”
Daisy—Lucy—laughed, low and husky. “He’s so easy to move along when I need to. Flirt with somebody and he’s ready to rush me out the door.”
