Frank drew his gun and hoped like the devil that Callie was lying. He knew for a fact she was very good at telling lies, but right now he preferred that to the alternative—that he might have two hit men nearby.
He took hold of Callie's arm with his left hand in case she tried to bolt, or grab her gun, and had another look out the window. The flashlight was off now, and Frank could no longer see the two men. That didn't mean they weren't out there though. They'd been dressed all in black and could be hiding in too many places to count. Of course, this could all be a false alarm, too.
Though it didn't feel like one.
Frank slapped off the living room and porch lights using the switch by the door. He considered calling for backup but decided to wait and see how this went.
"Are those men connected to the money laundering?" he asked.
The muscles in her arm were stiff. Her breathing was way too fast. She looked up at him, and though he could no longer clearly see her face, he heard the small sound of fear that bubbled up in her throat.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
He hated the apology almost as much as he hated not knowing what was going on. "Answer the question. Are they involved in the money laundering with you?"
No sound of fear this time. More like anger. "There was no money laundering. Not on my part anyway. I was set up. Maybe by those men. Maybe by the person who hired them."
Too bad he didn't have her strapped to a lie detector right now. However, if she was indeed innocent, then something else was going on. But what?
"You have to leave," Callie insisted. "They're not after you."
He tapped his badge though she clearly hadn't forgotten that situations like this were part of a lawman's job. Besides, he still had to arrest her.
"Who hired them?" Frank added.
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Frank saw the movement. One of the men darted behind a tree, and thanks to the milky moonlight, he saw the guy was wearing a ski mask. He was also carrying a rifle and had another weapon in a shoulder holster. And more. Frank was sure that was an infrared device he'd aimed at the house. These goons were monitoring his and Callie's every move.
Well, there went his theory about this being a false alarm. Someone out for a late night stroll wouldn't don a ski mask and come armed to the hilt. It was time to call for help though it'd be at least ten or fifteen minutes before anyone could arrive.
Frank locked the door and took out his phone. "I'm at Callie's place, and I need backup," he told Sheriff Daniels when he answered. "Approach with caution. Two men are in the east side of the front yard. At least one of them is armed."
The sheriff paused, probably because like Frank this wasn't anything he'd expected. "Any idea what they want?"
"Not yet. But I'm about to find out." Frank ended the call, and without taking his attention off the spot where he'd seen the man, he put his phone back in his pocket.
"Start talking," he told Callie. "I want answers that'll explain whatever the hell is going on here."
She didn't exactly jump into an explanation. It took her several snail-crawling moments. "I'm not the person you think I am."
Frank huffed. "Tell me something I don't know." Except he got the feeling this was about a lot more than just the money laundering and those men outside.
"I got involved with the wrong person," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "And then I got involved with you. God, Frank. I'm so sorry."
He was about to press her for a whole lot more, but the man behind the tree stepped out, and he aimed something directly at the house. Not the infrared device or his rifle, either.
A launcher.
Maybe for tear gas or a smoke bomb. Maybe for a grenade.
"Move!" Frank warned Callie, and he started running with her in tow. Not a second too soon, either.
Whatever the man fired at them came crashing through the window.
Oh, God. It was happening—again. Callie's worst fears were coming true, and this time Frank was right in the middle of it.
"This way," she said. Callie threw open the side door that led to the garage, but Frank and she had barely stepped through it when the thick white cloud started to disperse through the house.
"Tear gas," Frank mumbled.
Yes, and it was true to its name because Callie's eyes immediately started to water, and both Frank and she began coughing. He slammed the door behind them. That helped, some, but she doubted the men would stop with just a tear gas attack.
No.
This had likely been designed to get them running outside so they could either be captured or gunned down. Callie had no intentions of letting either happen.
"Get in," she insisted, hurrying toward the SUV parked in the center of the garage. But Frank was already heading in that direction. He jumped into the passenger's seat just as she got behind the wheel and started the engine.
"Hold on," Callie warned him.
She threw the SUV into Reverse, gunning the engine. The SUV crashed through the garage door and sent bits of wood flying all around them. As soon as she was in the driveway, she spun the vehicle around and headed for the road.
The sound blasted through the night.
Not another tear gas canister this time. One of the men had shot at them, and the bullet smacked into the back of the SUV.
That put her heart right in her throat. Callie tried not to panic. But Frank was nowhere near the panic stage. He was all lawman now and turned in the seat so he was facing the rear. No doubt so he could return fire.
"There are guns and ammo in the glove compartment," Callie let him know.
Even though she didn't actually look at him, Callie could practically see the questions in his eyes. There were more questions when he opened the glove compartment and saw her stash. A first aid kit, flares, three guns and enough ammo to last in a long gunfight.
Something Callie prayed wouldn't happen. Not ever. But especially not tonight with Frank caught in the middle of this.
Whatever this was.
Callie kept driving, kept her gaze firing all around to make sure there weren't other gunmen lying in wait to attack. However, she didn't see or hear anything. Especially not other shots and definitely no vehicle coming after them. Maybe that meant she'd gotten lucky.
"What the hell's going on?" Frank demanded. He glanced into the backseat at the bags filled with food, bedding and clothes.
Her escape gear.
Callie doubted she could put off answering Frank's question much longer, but there was something that had to be done. Something critical.
"There's a burner cell phone next to the guns," she said. A phone that couldn't be traced. "There are only two numbers in it—my sister's and her bodyguard's. Text my sister and tell her they found me, that I'm on the move."
Frank sent the text, after hesitating, still glancing at her at their surroundings. Afterwards, he also sent a text to the sheriff, no doubt to let him know what was going on.
"Can your phone be traced?" she asked.
"No. I turned off the location access." He tipped his head in the direction of her house. "Who are these men? Who are you?"
Both tough questions. Callie went with the first one. "I think these men are backup of sorts. Maybe they didn't believe you'd arrest me so they decided to take matters into their own hands."
Frank didn't say anything, but he was clearly waiting for her to add more. More that would explain things he wouldn't want to hear.
When he heard the secrets that she was hiding from him, Frank just might want to kill her, too.