Page 8 of Frankie and the Fed (Untamed Rascals #3)
I watched Frankie walk away from me, wondering if she really had a meeting or if that was an excuse, either way, I had an in, and I just needed to corner her again to make it happen.
I considered our schedules and what might be best when I was interrupted by a tall woman with vibrant red hair.
“Did I miss her? Damn,” Lily said when she approached my table.
“Yeah. She said she had a meeting.” I gestured at an empty seat, inviting her to join me. My research told me she was Frankie’s roommate and would thus be the most likely to have information on her.
“I swear, Tom does this shit on purpose,” she said as she slumped in her chair and dug around a takeout bag. “Shoot. I forgot… oh no, here it is.”
She pulled out a container of chicken nuggets and three dipping sauces, digging into them with a zeal I rarely felt for anything.
“God, that’s perfect. We were out so late last night that I overslept and didn’t get to eat breakfast, though that’s not so unusual for me, but I’ve been trying to get better at eating regularly,” she said around bites.
I tried not to laugh. I didn’t want her to think I was laughing at her, but it was a bit amusing seeing someone enjoy such a simple food so much.
“That’s right, you guys had some meeting?” I asked. The opening was too perfect to let it pass.
“Not so much a meeting—well, kind of, but ‘meeting’ sounds so stuffy. It was a coven meeting. We try to get together every full moon, even if it’s just to hang out.
We haven’t been doing it long, and last night was the first time Frankie actually stayed for the entire night.
Which was so surprising because she didn’t really get along with people.
Too prickly.” She hardly took a breath throughout the entire speech. I didn’t even have to prompt her.
“A coven? That sounds…” I didn’t actually know how it sounded.
The mormon in me railed against the idea of witchcraft, the pragmatist in me knew it couldn’t be real, the part of me that understood how difficult it was to form adult friendships was…
jealous, and the agent in me filed away every sentence she said to enhance my report.
Perhaps something in what she said could be the ticket to solving this and going home.
The thought didn’t warm me like it should. Sitting here, listening to Lily go on about a coven, earlier with Frankie blushing as I invited her to watch my comfort show, somehow those things held more appeal to me than my quiet apartment and endless work.
This wasn’t good.
I sat hunched over my computer hours after my lunch with Frankie, reviewing the latest batch of security footage from the museum, grinding my teeth at what I saw. I knew she was there, but I think a part of me hoped it was for innocent reasons.
In the security video, Frankie entered the warehouse with her friend, Lily, inspected the packaging, opened the box, and examined the goods.
The footage was clear, making Francesca Woolbridge suspect number one. I made note of Lily’s involvement. She hadn’t been on my original list, but I couldn’t ignore what was in front of me simply because they both seemed… nice.
My gut twisted with this information. I knew Taggart would be demanding more evidence, planning to take her down as quickly as possible. I needed to buy time.
Something about it didn’t sit right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I thought back to our encounters so far. She was… I racked my brain, trying to come up with a way to describe her, and fell short.
I didn’t know what or who Francesca Woolbridge really was, but I was going to find out.
The lights in her house were dim, but the golden glow looked inviting, nonetheless. I was no more prepared for this stakeout than I was for the last one, but at least this time, I had a car to sit in while I waited, staring at the sleepy street.
If I were to guess where Frankie lived based on all known information about her, a small cottage with a generous porch wouldn’t have made the list. Yet there sat her unmistakable 1961 Studebaker Lark VI, perched happily next to a gaudy red Porsche.
The silence here was nearly deafening. My fingers itched to turn on some low music, something unobtrusive, to fill the silence. I worried that the sound would carry beyond the car and draw attention to me. As it was, very few vehicles parked on the street, and I risked standing out.
I parked in a shady spot in front of the abandoned house next door and took some pictures of her place.
Beyond that, there was nothing. No movement. No sound. Not a goddamn thing to break up the monotony.
Fuck, it had only been thirty minutes.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest. I’d always had a partner in the past, maybe not one I was particularly close to, but at least another warm body in the seat next to me, munching on whatever snacks they brought, chatting about nothing, taking turns watching while the other napped.
The space didn’t just feel empty. It felt like a void, a black hole, sucking in bits of me —
Movement at Frankie’s house pulled me from my morose thoughts. Electric sensation raced through me, lighting me up and bringing me to full alertness.
Finally.
Frankie stepped out of her front door, looked up and down the street, her eyes landing straight on me for a moment, and then set off in the opposite direction.
Fuck. I needed to follow her.
I waited until she turned the corner and slipped out of the vehicle, slinking through the shadows behind her.