“What time did you arrive?”
The grocer stuffed his hands in his pockets, then jerked them out again. “A-about n-noon, I think.”
“What did you deliver? I didn’t see anything when I got there.”
“I-I don’t know. I didn’t look at it.”
“He’s lying.”
Arnold’s head jerked around at Miriam’s sharp accusation.
“What the hell did you do, Frank?”
“N-nothing, dear.” His nervous glance swung back to Coop as he licked his lips. “I haven’t done an-anything.”
Coop studied the fidgety man in front of him. Something was off. Way off. Uneasy eyes darted all around the room, never quite meeting Coop’s. Perspiration coated the man’s upper lip, and his hands trembled at his side.
Miriam’s fierce glare from behind was surely a factor, but did not account for this level of discomfort.
With slow precision, Coop rose from his chair. “Where is she, Frank?”
“Frank Arnold took her?” JD’s incredulous voice echoed inside Coop’s Bronco. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Left her tied up at the old Franklin place west of town.” Coop’s voice shook as he spoke to his deputy on the phone. “I’m texting you the directions.”
“Why’d he do it?”
“I’ll explain later. Get your ass on the road and meet me there.”
He tossed the phone in the front seat without waiting for a reply and backed out of his parking spot. Siren blaring, the tires squealed as he raced out of town.
Frank Arnold. Never in a million years would he have guessed that. His reasoning made no sense, and Coop didn’t waste time dwelling on it. He had to get to Sam.
Twelve miles from town, he saw JD make the turn down the lane leading to their destination.
The house showed signs of recent repair, but was still little more than a shack. The front door was slightly ajar and Coop nodded at JD.
Guns drawn, they moved to either side of the entry. At a nod from the deputy, Coop kicked the door with his foot, and they rushed in, gun hands sweeping side to side.
A lone chair rested on its side in the center of the room. An empty water bottle, discarded fast food and snack wrappers littered the dusty floor.
JD checked the room to the right. “Clear.”
Coop moved to the kitchen straight ahead. “Clear.”
Side by side, they inched down the narrow hall, checking each room as they went.
Nothing.
Coop frowned and forced tense shoulder muscles to relax. Sam was gone. But where? Did she escape? Did someone else take her? What the hell is going on?
They returned to the front room.
“He claimed he left her here, tied to a chair.” Fear gnawed through his gut. This couldn’t be happening. “Where the hell is she?”
JD aimed the flashlight downward over the grimy surface. “Some of the dust is smeared. Can’t really make out footprints.” The narrow beam traced back toward the door. “No drag marks.” He looked at Coop. “Are you sure this is where he brought her?”
“Yeah. He freaked when I said he could be arrested for kidnapping and started blubbering the location.”
“And you’re sure he acted alone?”
“That’s what he said.” Coop scanned the barren room, thoughts disjointed as he sought to understand what he saw, and, more importantly, what he didn’t see.
“I’ve known Frank all my life,” said JD. “I just can’t see him as our killer.”
Coop slapped his hat against his thigh. “He’s not.”
JD’s widened eyes were his only reaction.
“Frank is bat shit crazy. But he’s not our killer.” Lips pinched, he scanned the empty room again. “Claims they connected over a root beer float.”
“What the hell?”
Frustration mounting, Coop stomped to the door and gripped the sides as he looked out, straining to remain calm. He wanted to hit something. Hard. “Fool claimed they were soulmates.”
