Franny could only gape at this woman. Discussing the believability of herbookswhile Royal was unconscious, and she was bleeding at an alarming rate. This woman hadcrashed into themand she hadcritiques.
“In therealworld, there are the users and the used. You gotta be smart enough to be a user. I used Tony for what he was good for, and when he couldn’t do that right?” She shrugged. “Well, collateral damage is a term for a reason. You see, I’m a pretty good writer too. I’ve got all sorts of ideas. So, we’re working this story out. Brainstorm with me.”
Franny stared up at her. Did any of those words make sense? If they did, maybe she had a worse head injury than she thought.
“So, the police will come upon the scene I left for them. The second scene. They’ll blame your cop boyfriend for Tony, the first scene, since the body was in his place. But you saw the cop off Tony. Oh no! He’s got to get rid of you too. He drives you out to the middle of nowhere. He’s dragging you out of the car. Here because he thinks the bears will get you and he won’t have to explainyourbody. In his head, he’ll get back to take care of Tony before the cops know the difference.”
Franny looked around. Sure there were bears in Bent County, but she didn’t think one happening upon her dead body was much of a plan for body removal.
And why was she actually considering this like abook, when this was herlife?
“But I happen to drive by,” Holand continued, really getting into it. “I see him. Hero that I am, because it’s fiction, right? But even in real life stupid people want to believe in heroes. I run into his car to stop him. But it’s too late. I call the police, then disappear. Neat and tidy like. We all win. How’s that for a happy ending? If I didn’t have to kill you, I’d let you write that one. Your books aren’t bad. Could use an editor.”
Franny was almost positive this had to be a very lucid dream. But she didn’t wake up. No reality came calling. She sat there on the ground,bleeding, and stared at this woman. “No onewould ever believe any of that. In real lifeorin one of my books. There’s a million plot holes.”
The satisfied look on the woman’s face turned into a scowl. “Says you.”
“Says…reason and rationality. Royal is still in the car. He hasn’t moved. How did he kill me then crawl back into the crashed-out car? He’sunconscious.” She forced herself to add the next bit even though she didn’t want to say it out loud. “He might bedead.”
The woman lifted her chin. “I’ve got that figured out. Don’t you worry about it.” She flashed a smug smile again.
“I won’t. But you should worry about this. The police know who you are. They all know who you are,Holand. So you can run, but you can’t disappear. They’re already looking for you. Thanks to Royal.”
Franny had a glimmer of satisfaction as the smile slid off the woman’s face. The woman stood very still. Enough of a moment that Franny felt a bubble of hope.
But then the woman shrugged. “That’s a shame. Because if I can’t frame him, I don’t have time to mess around with you.” And as she raised the gun, Franny realized she’d made a fatal mistake.
ROYAL CAME TOon a stab of pain and a wave of nausea. He coughed, pain wracking his system. Something came out of his mouth when he coughed.
Blood.
Hell.
“Franny?” he croaked. He managed to lift his head, even though it hurt worse than he’d ever been hurt—and he’d been beaten and shot and all manner of things.
Her seat was empty, her door open. She must have gone to get help. That was good. He could just…rest until help came.
He managed to sit up, sort of, lean his head back. Sunlight gleamed off the car and it hurt his head. He closed his eyes, and closing his eyes seemed to help steady his jumbled thoughts.
He swore.
That hadn’t just been some car accident. Someone had hit them on purpose. He’d tried to swerve out of the way, but he hadn’t been willing to risk Franny, so he’d swerved in the only way he could to keep his side of the car the target.
The airbags hadn’t gone off. That was…wrong. Someone had to have messed with his car.
Everything was wrong.
Which meant Franny likely hadn’t gone for help. She’d likely been taken by whoever had crashed into them.
He heard a sound. Turned his head toward it. The passenger door was open. Someone was out there. The car that had rammed into him was there in the road, and someone was out beyond the road. In the trees.
He had to get out. Find Franny. He had to… He looked down at his uniform. His walkie wasn’t turned on, but he was wearing it.
Gritting his teeth together, he lifted his hand to turn it on. He was greeted by the steady sounds of radio traffic and the occasional burst of static. With what little strength he seemed to have, he managed to depress the talk button. He croaked out his department serial number, and his location, best as he could remember it. “Car accident.”
He needed them to know it was dangerous though. No accident. Who had been the driver of the car if the kidnapper was dead in his apartment?
The only other person he’d been looking into. Holand Meyer. He managed to give a description. Or thought he did.
