“So did he capture the guy?”
Cain stepped out the front door of her house and started toward the truck. At least he looked her in the eye.
She unlocked the truck door and slid out. “Marcy, I’ve got to go. Enjoy your trip and say hello to Broadway for me. Tell Sadie and Summer, I miss them already. Miss you, too, sister of mine. Love you all forever.”
Ending the call before there were any more questions, she headed to the front door of her house. Halfway there, she stopped in front of Cain.
“It’s not pretty in there.” He stared into her eyes with a warning look. And warmth. “You ready to go in?”
“I’m always ready.” Except when I’m not. “Let’s go.”
“Remember. Don’t touch anything inside or out,” Officer Hastings said, wearing gloves as she held the front storm door open for them. “Forensics will be here most of the day.”
“Got it. How’s my car in the garage?”
He shook his head. “Let’s just say, it’s not pretty.”
Betsy tightened her hair back in the scrunchie, straightened her stance and sighed heavily. Ready to face whatever came, she stepped into her home, the one that had been nice and neat when she’d arrived home late last night from California and the crime scene at Peyton’s.
The home had promised a welcoming respite as she raced out the door a little over an hour ago. Now all it offered was a view of what was left of her living room furniture and wine stains running down the far wall. Broken bottles littered the carpet below.
The fresh scent left behind after yesterday’s weekly cleaning had been replaced with the scent of spray paint, but there weren’t any words written on the walls so maybe her senses were flashing back to the service center. Glancing across her open floor plan to the kitchen, the smell of pickle juice—lots of pickle juice—was easy to identify. Her refrigerator lay tipped forward onto the floor. The door had been opened prior to the catastrophe, and contents were broken and scattered across the floor.
That was the last straw.
“Son of a biscuit!” Bracing her hands on her hips, she briefly turned toward Cain. “This is a great how do you do. I mean, what am I supposed to make of?—”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of all this later.” He half grinned “But I’d say you’re going to need a new sofa for starters.”
“Really?” she sarcastically sassed as she headed toward Deputy Evans standing at the entrance to her bedroom. “You look like you’re waiting for me.”
The deputy nodded as he stepped aside and motioned her forward. “Sorry to make you do this, Betsy, and I know it won’t be easy. But I’d really appreciate your help.”
Suddenly she felt alone. All alone and vulnerable. She didn’t want to be alone to face whatever was waiting for her. “Is it bad, Cain?”
He moved closer. “There’s not a body, if that’s what you’re asking. But the thugs haven’t left any stones unturned when it comes to emotions.”
His tone was ominous, and suddenly she felt cold. Nauseous without knowing why.
The deputy stepped back in front of the door. “That’s okay, Betsy. You don’t have to do this. It’ll be easier if we take photos and review them back at the office.”
“No,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay. How bad can it be?”
She stared at the floor. Swiped the palms of her hands slowly down her cheeks. Let the memories flood her mind, then shoved them aside. Through the years, a lot of things had happened in that bedroom. She’d faced them all and survived. What was one more?
Looking back over her shoulder, she held out her hand toward Cain. “You coming with me?”
“I’m right beside you, Betsy. All the way.” Cain wrapped his fingers through hers and held tight as she gripped his in return.
His DEA background was so deeply instilled in him, he couldn’t help but still watch for her reactions. Still keep her and Peyton’s on his Persons of Interest list. Still be wary of everything Shadow had told him that first night. Plus, Cain planned to check with a handwriting expert, make sure surveillance videos from Crayton were able to alibi what was being said, and trace recent spray paint purchases.
Betsy had told him right from the beginning that she wasn’t who she used to be. And neither was Crayton. That, mixed with Shadow’s warnings, had put a nagging doubt in his mind. Everything that had happened the past couple of days screamed she was a target. Yet his training warned him to remember that things weren’t always what they seemed. People sometimes wore unseen masks. Verify everything yourself.
He was willing to put his life and reputation on the line for her, but he wished like hell she hadn’t put the doubt in his mind. This case was only going to get worse, but no matter what happened in the next few days, they’d face everything as one. Good or bad. Real or staged. All the way to the final chase, bullet or breath.
After that, only time would tell. She wasn’t asking for the future. He wasn’t expecting anything specific in return. Right now, keeping her safe was all that counted. That and keeping himself alive.
They followed the deputy into her bedroom where Officer Kennett was directing others on evidence documentation. Betsy nodded to them, then scanned the room, pausing at the words on the wall. The same words that had been left back at her dealership office were sprayed on her bedroom walls.
