lori king rough ride romeo (17 page)

She nodded and held out her hands for the file. A sterile looking yellow

folder that simply said Evidence on the front. Her hands were trembling as she

lifted the top fap and looked at its contents. A young woman with sunshine

blonde hair, and pale peach skin stared back at her from the first image. Her

heart-shaped face was battered and bruised, lips swollen and split in a mangled

mess of shades of purple and blue. The photo only showed her from the neck up,

but it was enough to give Franki an idea of what had been done to the girl, and

her stomach rolled.

“It’s not her,” she whispered, trying hard not to get her hopes up. She knew

there were still two more photos in the folder.

She felt Roman wrap his arm around her in support, giving her some of his

strength, as she fipped the page. Beneath the blonde girl’s photo was one even

worse. The man in the image wasn’t just beaten, he was pulverized. His face

wasn’t familiar, but Franki wasn’t sure she’d have been able to recognize him even

if she’d have known him well. Her eyes burned with tears for the two victims so

far, she drew in a breath and turned the last page.

There in front of her was the truth she’d already known in her heart. Her

sister, Vivienne Ashley Scott, was the third photo. She recognized Vivi’s auburn

hair, and the dark freckles that dotted her swollen, bruised cheeks. It was obvious

that her sister had been beaten like the other two, but in this case it was also

obvious that she was deceased. The side of her temple was concave, and blood

stained one side of her head so much so that Franki thought she might even have

been missing an ear.

“Vivi…” the word slipped from her lips unbidden and around her were

gasps of shock and sorrow. In an attempt to avoid the pain in her own heart, she

concentrated on the emotions around her. Where did these people get off being

sad for Vivi? They didn’t even know her. It wasn’t like they’d shared secrets,

played dress-up, exchanged dating tips, and had girls’ nights with her. They’d

never even heard of her before this week.

“Are you sure, Franki?”

She lifted her head from the folder, and met Bran’s eyes. He looked a little

blurry, but she nodded at him confidently. “It’s her.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Roman hugged her tight. The folder crinkled in her

hands and she quickly snapped it shut, shoving it towards Bran.

“What now?” she asked, swallowing back her pain and focusing on her

anger. Goat had murdered her sister, and now her life’s mission would be to find

him and serve justice.

Bran stared at her for a moment as if trying to decide if her sudden change

in mood was her losing her mind. Finally he tucked the file under his arm and

explained. “The blonde woman hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The doctors

aren’t sure she will. She’s in ICU. The other two…um, Vivienne and the other

victim, were taken to the coroner’s office for autopsies. Once that’s completed

they’ll release the body to you so that you can plan a funeral service for her. We’ll

need to interview you at the office when you’re feeling up to it. I want to run back

through the details and make sure we get everything on record.”

“Sure. Just give me time to change clothes.” She tried to stand and found her

knees were strangely unsteady. Thankfully Roman was there to support her. She

tried to smile at him, but when he frowned back she shook her head, “Sorry. I

think I’m just tired.”

“You’re not tired. You’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, Franki. You don’t have

to do this now. You’re sister just died,” he said, holding her firmly against his

body.

“I’m okay. I just want to get this over with and then I’ll…”

Her words drifted off as her mind hit a wall. Sure, she had to plan Vivi’s

funeral, and she wanted to keep looking for Goat, but what else? What was her

next step? All she’d been focused on was finding Vivi. Rescuing Vivi. Protecting

Vivi. She’d failed in the last two, and now she felt like a ship with no rudder

drifting in the middle of a vast ocean with no wind and no current to carry her

back to the familiar.

“I think she’ll need some time to process.” Roman was saying beside her.

“Sure, we’re fairly certain that the male victim is Zeke Palmer, but we

haven’t confirmed that so please keep it quiet. There was a destroyed cell phone

under his body. It’s probable that he was the client Vivi was with when she found

the phone, and unfortunately, someone must have figured out that she’d gotten

information out to her sister and they were killed for it. We’re not sure how the

other woman plays into it yet. Hopefully she’ll be able to tell us herself at some

point.”

Franki listened from the comforting warmth of Roman’s embrace. Her

entire being felt oddly frozen, and the layer of security he lent her was the only

thing keeping her upright. Conversation continued for another moment around

her, but she didn’t really hear much of it. None of it mattered. Her sister was

gone so there was nothing else she could do at the moment. She had no clues,

and no direction to point herself in so that she could begin her search for Goat.

All she had was a body to bury and a lonely life to return to.

A pitiful sounding gasp slipped from her throat, and suddenly, she was

wracked with uncontrollable sobs. They hit her out of the blue, and she had

absolutely no control over them. Shuddering in Roman’s arms, she dug her

fingers into his shirt and clung to him for dear life. Nothing would ever be the

same.

~ ~ ~ ~

Roman was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle the depth of Franki’s

grief. She’d fallen to pieces in his arms, and he did the only thing he could. He

lifted her and carried her to his room. A niggling voice in his head questioned his

decision to take her to his room instead of hers, but he told himself that he just

didn’t want to chance the stairs with a sobbing woman in his arms. He figured,

given the circumstances, it was okay to lie to himself just a bit.

Once settled on the bed, Franki buried her face in her arms and wept openly

while he just hovered over her, rubbing her back and whispering random words of

encouragement. He knew what it was like to lose someone so important, and feel

an added layer of guilt on top of the grief, but he didn’t know how to deal with it

without alcohol.

At the moment he had a strong yearning for a stiff drink, but Franki needed

him, so he pushed the urge away and focused on her. She was going to need

someone to lean on, and he wanted to make sure she chose him.

He couldn’t believe that her sister had been one of the bodies. It was

devastating to know that they hadn’t been able to save Vivi. Bran said the medical

examiner put the time of death as two to three days ago, which meant that, this

whole time, they’d been looking for a dead woman. That was a hard pill to

swallow. Finding Vivi was supposed to be his way of atoning for not being there

when Abe needed him. Instead, it had turned out to be yet another failure.

In the back of his mind, a small voice tried to comfort him with the

knowledge that some situations were just out of his control, but as usual, he

shushed it. Everything was controllable, you just had to figure out a proactive way

to protect yourself from it. Life didn’t have to be painful. It could simply be fun.

He would teach Franki to guard her heart against the pain and sorrow, and

embrace the fun side of life. That way she’d realize she wanted to stay in

Montford with him. They could help each other, and enjoy each other. It was the

only way she’d be able to move on. It was the only way he’d managed to move

on.

When he first came to Crawley Creek pain had been almost like a way of

life for him. The random beatings, the sudden shocking blows to the head, or

kicks to the ribs. His father had a terrifying way of handling emotions, and they

usual y ended up causing bruises and broken bones. A couple of fractured ribs

and a second degree burn from an iron had been the tipping point for social

services, and Roman had been swept away from his family home and into the

security of Crawley Creek.

Not that he missed the uncertainty of his childhood home, but it did take

some adjusting. In the beginning, he was mean to everyone who tried to show

him affection or genuine concern. It made it easier not to get attached. His father

told him in regular phone calls and supervised visits not to get too comfortable

living with those hoity-toity Crawleys because he’d be moving back to the slums

pretty quick. But that day had never come. One drunken brawl put his father in

the hospital with a ruptured spleen and an infection had killed him within weeks.

Roman’s stepmother had no interest in raising a boy that wasn’t hers, and she’d

finally gotten her freedom from an abusive husband, so she’d hit the road. Roman

had been left with the cloyingly sympathetic Crawley family. Unwanted, full of

anger, and unable to move on.

Fighting became his way of life. It was the only way he could be assured of

getting what he wanted. If he didn’t fight for his rights and the things he desired,

people would walk all over him. So he pushed. He argued. He hated. And Abe

and Sera Crawley, pushed back, loved, and even sympathized. They gave him

structure and discipline when he rebel ed. And more importantly, they showed

him that there were better ways. He didn’t have to fight for everything. In fact,

loving and charming the world seemed to work even better.

By the time he was a teenager he’d switched from beating on others, to

seducing every female in sight. The time spent sweaty in the bed of a pickup with

a cute girl in his arms was a way of reassuring himself that he was worthy of love.

Those girls wanted him. Every part of him. In fact, when he’d pushed them away,

many times they’d come crawling back begging for more attention from him. It

put him on top of the world in ways he’d never imagined. It made him feel like a

king.

Staring down now at Franki’s tear-stained face and sweetly rounded body

curled up in the fetal position, he felt like shit. Why couldn’t he be her King? He

just had to make her see that they could be enough for each other. If they put all

of their pain behind them, they could fix each other. He just knew it.

Chapter 14

The days blurred together for Franki as she worked with Bran and the rest of

his staff at the Montford Sheriff ’s Department to document the information she

knew. They’d reached out to the PD in St. Paul and got a much more cooperative

response than she did when she tried, but she didn’t care at this point. There was

nothing more that could be done. Vivi was already dead.

The medical examiner determined that Vivi died of blunt force trauma and

that she died prior to many of the injuries on her body. Thank God for small

favors. The second body was determined to be that of Zeke Palmer, and he

wasn’t as fortunate. Based on the injuries he sustained he was likely tortured for a

bit before he finally died of internal bleeding. Franki assumed that he and Vivi

were being punished for her getting word out via that phone call, but until today,

she’d had no way to confirm it.

Today, she stood outside a hospital room trying not to hyperventilate. The

other victim was just inside the room in front of her. She’d finally regained

consciousness and the first words she’d spoken were Vivienne Scott, so Bran had

called Crawley Creek and asked Franki to come by. They’d yet to question the

woman, but they’d managed to find out that she was reported missing in Orlando

by her employer, and her name was Destiny Warren.

The door taunted her with the answers to questions she wasn’t even sure she

could ask yet. Destiny would know what Vivi had gone through. She’d be able to

add color to the black and white report that Franki had read about the damage to

Vivi’s body. Was that truly necessary? Would it make the whole situation even

harder to absorb?

She’d cycled through anger, and disbelief quickly enough, but she’d yet to

move past the lonely emptiness that filled her chest whenever she thought of Vivi.

Or for that matter, the heavy sense of guilt. If she’d been faster in trusting

Roman, or taken a chance and reached out to Bran the day she met him, maybe

Vivi would still be alive. It was a small chance, but it was enough of a chance that

it left Franki feeling like she’d swung the death blow.

A motion near her elbow made her jump, and she looked up as Roman

joined her. He’d paused in the hallway to speak with the nurse, and was away just

long enough for Franki to let her terrible thoughts run wild. Now she was sure she

didn’t want to open the door.

“Ready?” he asked, seeming much more confident than she was that this was

necessary.

She shook her head, and swallowed hard. “I don’t think…I mean…she

needs to heal. Maybe later...”