In Safe Hands (23 page)

Daisy had no idea what the right thing to say was. It wasn't like she was the best person to be giving advice about anxiety. “I'm sorry.”

Her mouth turning down at the corners, Ellie admitted, “I didn't used to be like this. I used to love being alone, until…” With a small shrug, she gestured toward the center of her chest.

“You were shot,” Daisy said. “I think you have the right to be scared.”

“I just wish they'd catch him. Not knowing if he's in Mexico or watching me from the trees outside my bedroom window is making me crazy.”

Grabbing her hand, Daisy gave it a comforting squeeze. “I never sleep.” When Ellie just blinked at that, she clarified, “I mean, I have insomnia. Next time George has to go on a call at night, give me a buzz. If you think it would help, I mean. That way, we can talk about something completely unrelated to murder or gun-toting psychos. Okay?”

Ellie's eyes got a little glassy with tears, but she smiled. “Okay. That sounds…good. There's something about being up at two in the morning that makes me feel like the only person on Earth, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”

When Ellie focused on something over her shoulder, Daisy knew their private time was done. This was confirmed by George's rumbling voice.

“Ready?”

Her smile broadening, Ellie nodded. “Bye, Daisy.
Thank you.
”

“Anytime.” As she followed them to the door, Daisy tried to analyze the odd—but good—sensation she was experiencing. She finally realized that she felt
helpful
. It had been so long since she'd offered a hand, rather than always being the one accepting it. Excitement fizzed through her, carbonating her blood. It almost felt like she was floating.

Everyone made their way through the interior doorway, chatting and shouting final good-byes to Daisy.

“I'll call you later,” Chris said quietly in her ear. “I'm so proud of you.”

When she turned to smile at him, their gazes clung. The voices in the background faded until it was just the two of them. When Chris stepped back, breaking the moment, Daisy had to resist reaching out to him, grabbing him and keeping him with her. Instead, she contained herself and just watched as he joined the others.

Once everyone was cleared from the entryway, she gave a last wave and closed the inner door. Each dead bolt slid home with a thud, and then she reached for the bottom chain lock. Before she could touch it, her fingers stopped in midair. Instead of latching it, she left both chains hanging uselessly against the door.

Raising her fist, she gave her usual “good to go” pound. She heard the exterior door open and her friends as they spilled out, talking and laughing as they headed to all the places she couldn't go.

Yet. She looked at the two unlatched chains and smiled. She couldn't go
yet
.

The knock was so hesitant that Daisy only heard it because she was standing by the door. She'd been staring at the final dead bolt for an embarrassing amount of time. Her hand kept creeping toward it, but she'd been successful so far in not touching it. The interior door was completely unlocked, and she would've been excited and proud if she hadn't been so close to screaming hysterically and possibly fainting.

At the hesitant tap, tap, tap, she jumped as high as if someone had slammed into the door with a battering ram. Her finger fumbled for the intercom button, but she hit the unlock one instead. Her entire body went rigid. Illogically, her main source of panic was not that she'd just let who-knows-whom into her house, but that there were no locks between her and the open door.

The edges of her vision went gray, making her only able to focus on that bottom, unfastened dead bolt. She was frozen, not even capable of reaching forward and locking the single barrier between her and the outdoors. The outer door resettled into place with a thud, followed by the click of the lock.

That tiny sound released her from her terror-induced paralysis, and she grabbed at the door. Before she could reach the dead bolt, though, reason wormed its way through her panicky thoughts and reminded her that the outer door was now closed. Compared to her recent overwhelming surge of fear, her twinge of nervousness at not knowing who was waiting between the doors felt inconsequential.

Another timid knock, on the closer door that time, had her turning the doorknob before she'd even thought it through. As she opened the door, Daisy saw a woman who couldn't have been an inch over five feet tall. Her strawberry-blond hair was in a pixie cut, and she was wearing black-framed glasses and a peach-colored pantsuit.

“Hello.” The woman's voice was as tentative as her knock had been. “I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm Natalie Sharp, with Mintle Real Estate?” Her voice went up at the end, as if asking Daisy if she recognized the name.

Daisy shook her head. The unexpected appearance of her visitor had knocked the panic right out of her, so she was able to function like a seminormal person. “Sorry. It's not familiar, but then I don't get out much. I'm Daisy Little.”

“Nice to meet you.” Natalie's hesitation faded, as if the polite exchange had allowed her to regain her composure. Stepping through the doorway, she held out her hand. As Daisy shook it, she reached over with her other arm to shove the inner door closed. Despite the lack of fastened locks, it was nice having a solid obstacle between her and the outer door.

The realtor peered around as if she was checking out what parts of the house she could see. Daisy figured it was probably a professional hazard.

“Did you need something?” Daisy asked when the woman had been silently looking around for a while. “We aren't interested in selling the house, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, no.” Natalie pulled her attention back to Daisy's face. “Although it's a beautiful place. If you ever are considering selling, here's my card.” She pulled out a white rectangle and handed it to Daisy.

“Okay…?” Bemused, she accepted the business card.

Natalie gave a small laugh. “Oh, I'm sorry again. Your gorgeous ceramic tile floors distracted me. I just finished showing the house right across the street to a couple, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about the neighborhood and…well, some other things.”

The mention of the place Daisy had mentally been referring to as—in a rather morbid and not very creative way—the dead-body house brought all her attention to the realtor. Her near-mental breakdown was temporarily forgotten as curiosity took precedence.

“Did you want to come inside?” Daisy asked, gesturing toward the archway into the kitchen.

“Oh, I'd love to.” Natalie was already heading into the kitchen. Giving the unlocked inner door a single glance, Daisy hurried after her guest.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. Although she was dying to know about the house across the street, she figured she should be polite. The realtor's questions would probably just be the standard and boring ones, like whether there were many children in the area or if anyone threw loud parties late at night. Daisy wondered if she should let Natalie know about Corbin and his destructive tendencies.

“No, thank you. I'm not really a coffee drinker.” Natalie was closely examining the cupboard doors. “Did you recently remodel?”

“Yes.” Since Daisy had a feeling that a conversation about home renovations could go on for hours with Natalie, she prompted, “You mentioned you had some questions about the neighborhood?”

“Oh, yes.” Turning away from studying the countertops, she gave Daisy a wide smile. Despite the realtor's attempt at pretending to be at ease, she seemed nervous, which was strange. “As I mentioned, I showed the house to a young couple this morning. Very nice pair. They'd been looking in Connor Springs, but places in this area are a bit closer to their price range.”

Daisy nodded, still trying to figure out what was making Natalie so tense.

“Do you know why the owners are selling?”

“They moved to Florida about eight months ago,” Daisy said. “I wasn't…um, close with them, but I heard they were sick of the cold and snow. They were travel agents, so they switched from arranging ski vacations to beach trips. There were two kids, a boy and a girl, about ten or twelve? I'm not really good at guessing kids' ages.” She didn't mention that it was especially difficult when you only had an oblique view of the children from an upstairs window. When they'd moved, Daisy hadn't been too sad, since the parents hadn't provided much entertainment, and the kids had liked to knock on her door and run away.

“Did anything…well,
unusual
happen there?”

Cocking her head to the side, Daisy repeated, “Unusual?”

“The husband noticed something on the ceiling of the living room.” The realtor shifted her gaze from Daisy to the sink. “Very nice fixtures, dear.”

“Um…thank you.” This was an odd conversation. “What was on the ceiling?”

“Well, it was just a few dark-colored spots, and I didn't think anything of it. He became rather interested, since he was determined that it was…well, blood. He mentioned being an avid hunter, and said that he knew what dried blood looked like. Since it was such a small amount, just a few drops, I didn't think it was worth focusing on, even if he was right about it being blood.”

Natalie paused, her eyes narrowing on Daisy's face. Daisy wasn't sure if the realtor was checking to see if she believed her story, or looking for signs of murderous guilt. Either way, Daisy kept her expression blank, and Natalie resumed her story.

“I pointed out the lovely stone fireplace and the two-year-old windows, but he wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was checking the floor and the walls—looking for more blood. He thought he found it, just a light pink swipe on one wall and a few traces on the floor. It didn't look like anything to get excited about to me. He kept asking what had happened, if someone had been seriously injured in that room, and if that's why the owners were selling. I told him it had been a relocation, but he'd already made up his mind that it was…well.”

Natalie paused, looking flustered. Not breathing, Daisy waited for her to continue.

“He was talking as if it was a
murder
house or something equally ridiculous.”

The word “murder” made the image of the deputy carrying the tarp-wrapped, body-shaped bundle resurface, and Daisy sucked in a breath.

The realtor stared at her. “Do you know something?”

“No.” It wasn't really a lie, since Daisy didn't know anything for sure. “You should tell the sheriff's department, though, so they can check it out.”

Natalie shook her head, her hands coming up as if to ward off any oncoming deputies. “Oh, no! I couldn't bother them with something so…silly. It was such a tiny bit of blood—if it
is
blood—that I would look like a hysterical fool if I told them about this. The client just made me paranoid with his theories of bloodshed and murder, so I knocked on your door on a whim. Since nothing actually happened there…”

“But what if something did?” Daisy asked. The tarp-covered form wouldn't leave her head. “Better it be a false alarm than have them miss an actual crime scene.”

Her eyes widening at the phrase “crime scene,” Natalie all but ran toward the door, skirting Daisy as if
she
were the killer. “It's a small community. I can't be known as the realtor who calls the cops on her clients. Please just forget what I told you. I'm sure it's nothing. Have a nice day! You have a beautiful home!” As she spoke, Natalie grabbed for the door and yanked it open, diving through it as if escaping from a haunted house.

“Wait!” Daisy lunged for the inner door, trying to close it before Natalie opened the exterior door. Her fingers fumbled, and the door banged against her hip before heading back to the wall. Self-preservation peeked out from her overwhelming panic and sent her to her knees so she would be closer to the ground in case she fainted. Her position made it harder to get out of the way of the door, though, and then it was too late. Natalie shoved open the exterior door.

Daisy's throat closed, making breathing impossible. The rectangle of light burned its image against her eyes. She could hear the strange noises coming from her throat, but she couldn't get herself to stop making them. The usual darkness ringed her vision, shrinking her field of view until just a small circle of light remained.

That small bit of illumination disappeared. It took Daisy a few seconds to realize that she hadn't fainted. She blinked a few times, ignoring the burn as a droplet of sweat touched the corner of her eye. The light was gone because the door had closed. Just as that thought occurred to her, the sharp click of the exterior lock made the world return in a rush.

Shuffling backward on her knees, she got her body out of the way of the inner door and slammed it shut. As soon as it latched, Daisy twisted around to sit on the floor, leaning against the blessedly closed entrance. Her head fell back, landing against the wood panel with a thump. She didn't mind the slight ache, though. It actually felt kind of good, showing her that she was alive and she was conscious. She'd looked directly at the outside world, and she hadn't fainted. Sure, she'd freaked out a bit, but she'd survived.

Her fingers didn't seem to be working as she fumbled her phone out of her hoodie pocket. Daisy felt like she was wearing thick gloves as she tried to bring up Chris's contact and tap the screen to call him. On her first try, she dialed her dad's number by mistake, and she quickly ended the call. Her second attempt was more successful, and she raised her phone to her ear with shaking hands.

She laughed, too loudly, as the cell rang on Chris's end. Her hands weren't the only part of her that was shaking. In fact, her whole body was vibrating like she was a human earthquake.

“What's up, Dais?”

His usual greeting had her laughing again. It wasn't that she found anything funny, but she was just filled with such
relief
and the residue of her earlier terror that she had to laugh. There must have been an edge of hysteria remaining in the sound, though, because Chris's voice sharpened.

“Daisy? You okay? Talk to me.”

“I'm good.” Her teeth had started chattering, apparently feeling left out when all her other body parts were shuddering. “Both doors were open, Chris, and I was right there. It's okay, though. I'm okay. I didn't pass out.”

“Dais, I can't understand you.” There was a pause and some background noise before he returned. “I'm headed your way. Now tell me what's going on. Talk slowly.”

“No, you don't have to come,” she protested, but then her jumbled brain cleared enough for her to change her mind. “Actually, it's good you'll be here. You can check out the blood.”

“Blood?” The tension in Chris's voice ratcheted up several notches. “What blood? Do you need Medical?”

“No!” She needed to immediately become more coherent, or Chris would send Fire, Med, and every on-shift deputy to her house. “I'm fine. Really. Mentally and physically. Especially mentally. Chris, I didn't faint!” Okay, maybe that wasn't quite as comprehensible as she would've liked.

“That's…good, I guess.” It seemed to have helped a little, at least, since he was no longer threatening her with ambulances. “Whose blood are you talking about, then?”

“A realtor stopped by my house.” Daisy was relieved that her words were coming in a more logical order. “She said there was blood on the ceiling of number 304.”

In the following silence, Daisy could hear chatter from the squad radio in the background, although she couldn't make out any of the words. “How much blood? And why didn't she call it in? Hang on. I'm pulling up in front of your house now.”

“Okay. I'll see you in a minute.” She ended the call and scrambled to her feet, feeling like a newborn foal as she swayed, forcing herself to brace her weight against the door. By the time she'd managed to get upright, Chris's fist hit the outer door. Daisy pushed the unlock button and, before she could think about it too hard, yanked open the interior door.

“Daisy!” Chris's eyes went wide as he reached for her, his movement distracting her from the opening behind him. Her knees, which had just recovered, went wobbly again, and she clutched the edge of the inner door for support. Even through the haze of panic, she could feel it was easier that time.

The outside door closed just as Chris reached her, wrapping his arms around her in a half-hug, half-lift. Moving them both into the entry, he kicked the interior door closed behind them.

“Shit! What were you thinking?” His hands moved over her, as if checking for injuries. The idea that he thought she could get hurt by getting a glimpse of the outdoors made her laugh. Her amusement didn't seem to calm Chris, judging by the way his arms tightened around her.