AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hunsacker shot him a sullen look for interfering but seemed to realize he’d gone too far. “Let’s get moving,” he said, and walked away.
“I can’t believe that guy’s married,” Francesca grumbled. “His wife must be blind and stupid.”
Finch, who’d just finished dialing, was holding the phone to his ear, but jumped into the conversation, anyway. “Stop wasting time.”
Jonah passed the surveillance equipment to her. “There’s a bathroom around the corner.”
Holding a hand over the receiver, Finch stopped her before she could go anywhere. “Whoa, wait. She won’t be able to get that on by herself. We’re in a hurry here. Help her out, Jonah.”
Jonah raised his eyebrows as if asking Finch to take care of it, but Finch wanted it to happen right away, and he was clearly busy. “I’m trying to see where the hell our utility team is,” he said. “They were supposed to be out there at seven this morning. We can’t all arrive at the same time.”
Slightly offended by Jonah’s reluctance, Francesca walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll figure it out.”
Muttering something under his breath, he caught up with her and took the device from her. “It’s not a big deal. Lift your shirt.”
She did, and he taped the tiny recording device to the small of her back. Then his fingers trailed along her bare skin as he brought the wire around her body. He stopped every few seconds to secure it with pieces of tape she tore off for him, but he kept his head bowed and worked efficiently. Indifferently.
“You can take it from here,” he said when he reached her bra. “Feed it up and under.”
“Got it.” Relieved that he was finished, that she didn’t have to smell the fabric softener on his clothes or endure the close proximity of his body anymore, she took the mic, and he turned away so fast it was as if he’d found it repulsive to touch her.
Why does it have to be Jonah who’s involved in this case? Why can’t it be someone else? she thought as she situated the mic between her breasts and lowered her shirt.
They tested the equipment. When they were satisfied that it worked properly, they trooped downstairs and into the parking lot. She was to take her car and go alone; they were to follow in an unmarked police vehicle.
“You okay?” Jonah asked as he handed over her keys, which he’d pocketed after driving earlier.
She mustered a disinterested smile. “Sure. What’s he gonna do? Kill me?”
Judging by his dark scowl, Jonah didn’t appreciate the joke. “We’ll be listening. If there’s trouble, we’ll be there right away.”
“What I won’t do to avoid a trip to the DMV,” she said, but she knew—they all knew—she wasn’t doing this for the articles she stood to recover. She was doing this to save lives. The sooner they could get some hard evidence on Butch, the sooner he’d go to prison. Then she wouldn’t be afraid to return to her own home, and all the other women out there that might come into contact with him would be safe—including Adriana, Heather and Josephine.
All business, Jonah grabbed her arm. “Make sure you speak up, so we can hear what’s going on. And, whatever you do, don’t go inside. You go inside, no telling what might happen.”
“Don’t scare her too much,” Hunsacker interrupted. “We’re not even positive this is our guy.”
Francesca glanced back in time to see Jonah silence Hunsacker with a glare. “Better safe than sorry,” she heard him say, but what she was doing had very little to do with her safety. There was a reason Butch had asked his brother-in-law to invite her back to Prescott, and it sure as hell wasn’t because he felt guilty for stealing her purse.
* * *
Surprisingly, everyone seemed to be home. Several vehicles, including Butch’s wife’s Impala, jammed up the driveway. His son, dressed in a baseball uniform, was tossing a ball out front.
Butch’s brother-in-law answered the door almost before Francesca could ring the bell, as if he’d been watching for her. Although Francesca had braced herself for the worst—after seeing that body in Skull Valley, who wouldn’t?—she was quickly losing her fear. Surely Butch wouldn’t attack her in front of his whole family.
“You made it.” Dean offered her a pleasant smile. “Come on in.”
Jonah had warned her not to go inside, but Francesca was beginning to think that, once again, they’d put out a lot of effort that would prove wasted in the end. Whatever Butch had in mind when he asked Dean to call her—or gave permission for Dean to call her if that was how it’d happened—didn’t seem to be nearly as diabolical as she’d believed.
Still, she made an attempt to remain on the stoop. “That’s okay. I’ll just get my purse and go.”
“You won’t come in?” He sounded confused. “I think Butch wants to talk to you.”
Remembering how Butch had changed the second his family had come into view, Francesca cast a glance at his son. As long as that child remained in the vicinity, she’d be fine. She needed to push this a little further, had to walk away with something. For one thing, she didn’t need Hunsacker and Finch making fun of her for crying wolf again. “Okay. Maybe for a few minutes.”
Obviously pleased, he moved out of the way and held the door.
She imagined Jonah cringing as she stepped into a middle-class home that smelled like hot dogs and could’ve been decorated by her grandmother. A purple sofa sat against flocked wallpaper on violet carpet. Tables with doilies and gold lamps completed the effect.
