In Safe Hands (24 page)

“I'm okay, Chris.” Her words were muffled by his chest, where her face was mashed against him. She tilted her head back to get some space between his shirt and her mouth. Having Chris's arms around her made her feel so safe and protected that she felt like she could do
anything
. “I didn't pass out the first time, and I just wanted to see if I could do it again.”

“The first time?” He frowned, examining her face.

“When the realtor left in a hurry, I couldn't get this door closed quickly enough.” She tilted her head toward it. “I freaked when she opened the other door, but I didn't faint or, you know,
die
or anything.” Grinning at him, she felt his tight muscles ease slightly. It also brought her attention to the fact that the full length of her body was pressed against his. Her skin warmed at the front-to-front contact, and she knew her face was turning pink.

“Warn me first next time,” he grumbled, although his hands had stilled on her back. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“Me too.” Although she tried to hold her serious expression, a giggle slipped out. “I did it, Chris.”

“Yeah, you did.” He spun her around, making her laugh harder and press her forehead against his chest so she didn't get dizzy. Being that close to him made her loopy enough. “That therapist you found must be a genius. You've had, what? Three sessions with him? Four? And you're about two steps away from walking out the door.”

The idea of actually leaving the house cut off her laughter. “Not quite,” she managed to squeeze out of her suddenly tight throat. “And it's not all Dr. Fagin's doing. When we talked about…Mom last week, and you told me your version of what happened, it just…knocked something loose in my head.” Chris raised his eyebrows, and she shook her head. “In a good way. It was like I'd been in this loop, with my memories and nightmares and everything, and you shoved me out of it. I'm not explaining this well.”

He smiled. “No, I get it. I think you knocked me loose, too.” Instead of putting her down, he carried her into the kitchen with her feet dangling several inches off the floor. She laughed as he hoisted her to sit on the counter, giddy from excitement and triumph and being held so close to Chris for so long. “Now tell me about the blood.”

Daisy repeated everything Natalie had told her, while Chris scribbled in his small notepad.

“Natalie…what did you say her last name was?”

Making a face, she admitted, “I don't remember it. Sorry. Oh, wait!” She dug into her sweatshirt pocket, pulling out the realtor's business card and glancing at it before handing it to Chris. “Here. It's Natalie Sharp.”

“Thanks.” Accepting the card, he slipped it into the notepad, which he then tucked into one of his BDU pockets. “I'm going to call Rob. He's talked to the owners recently, so he might be able to get them to allow us to search the place. If not, we'll need to get a warrant.”

“Want me to go find somewhere else to hang out while you talk to him?” she asked, starting to move toward the edge of the counter in preparation of hopping down. With a shake of his head, Chris stopped her with a hand on her knee. He left it there, warm and heavy, and Daisy couldn't stop staring at it as he pulled out his phone.

“Rob. I'm here at Daisy Little's place.” He frowned slightly at whatever the sheriff had said, and Daisy wished she had superhero hearing so that she could listen to both sides of the phone conversation. “That place across the street that's for sale? A realtor was showing it this morning and noticed some blood in the living room.” Pausing, he gave a small shake of his head. “No, not much, just traces on the ceiling, wall, and floor. After that weird thing with Macavoy, I thought—”

He cut off abruptly, as if the sheriff had interrupted, and his frown deepened. “If you spoke to the owners again, and they gave permission for a search, then we wouldn't need to get a warrant.” It was obvious, from Chris's scowl and the way his fingers were digging into her leg, that he was not pleased. “After what Daisy saw, we should at least—” The vein in his temple began throbbing in time to the muscle clenching in his jaw. He glanced at her and then looked away, his tone becoming stiff. “No, sir, she
is
a credible witness.”

With a final quick squeeze of her knee, he moved into the living room. Daisy managed to stay where she was for almost three seconds before slipping off the counter as quietly as she could manage. Peeking through the doorway, she saw Chris's back as he headed down the hallway toward the training room.

Although she felt a slight pang of guilt, it wasn't strong enough to keep her from following. He'd closed the door, but it hadn't latched, so she eased it open just enough to hear. Chris's voice boomed through the space, making her jump.

“She's not delusional!” Even his pause vibrated with anger. “She has some anxiety issues. Her mom was shot in front of her when she was sixteen. I think that would mess up anyone.” She heard his boots thump against the floor as he paced. “She's never been an attention seeker, and she's never had a problem separating reality from fiction. Besides,
she's
not the one who saw the blood.” His footsteps got faster and hit harder. “Why not check it out? It'll only take me an hour to process the scene. If the owners give their permission—” The next pause was short. “But—” After another silence, his exhale came out like a growl. “I don't understand why—”

He'd stopped pacing, and the echoes against the high ceiling faded. “Yes, sir.” His voice was stiff, almost robotic. “Of course, sir.” There was another moment of quiet before an enormous crash made her nearly jump out of her socks. “
Fuck!
”

Unable to resist seeing what, exactly, Chris had killed in his fit of rage, Daisy pushed open the door and cautiously poked her head inside. He whipped around to look at her, and his expression was ferocious enough to make her want to duck right back out of there. Instead, she raised her eyebrows.

“All that noise from just a weight bench going over?” she asked, taking a step into the room.

He stared at her a long moment, his chest moving quickly with his breath, before he gave a short shake of his head. “The bench hit the weight rack.”

As she moved closer to Chris and the overturned bench, she saw the hand weights scattered over the floor. “Ah.”

“Sorry.” The apology came from between still-gritted teeth. “I'll clean it up.”

“Don't worry about it. It'll just give me more to do at two a.m. when I can't sleep.” She smiled, but he didn't return it, so she settled on another, upright bench. “What'd the sheriff have to say?”

The question made him start pacing again. “No.”

“Just no? That was it?”

“Pretty much.” He stomped over and straddled the bench so he sat facing her. “Well, that and I'm supposed to turn on my portable. Apparently, Dispatch has been trying to get ahold of me. Deputy Lawrence needs assistance with his current call.”

“Oh!” Drawing her knee onto the bench, she turned toward him, surprised he wasn't hurrying out the door. “Shouldn't you go, then, if he needs help?”

Chris snorted. “I heard Dispatch send the call to him when I was headed over here. Some tourists are missing the spare-tire cover off their Jeep. They think it was stolen while they were at The Coffee Spot.”

“Why would anyone want to steal a tire cover?” she asked, confused.

“No one would. It probably fell off somewhere, and they just noticed it now.”

The conversation still wasn't making any sense to her. “So, why does Lawrence need your help with something so stupid?”

“He doesn't.” Chris's smile held no amusement. “This is my punishment.”

“Your punishment? For what?” Indignation raised her voice an octave.

Although he didn't get up and start pacing again, Chris did begin jiggling his knee up and down. “I don't get it. This isn't like him. If anything, Rob sticks
too
closely to the rules. Everything is black and white with him. He's a bulldog, too, about solving cases and enforcing the law. Why doesn't he want to search the house?”

“Could he be protecting Deputy Macavoy?” Daisy guessed. “Or maybe the sheriff just really doesn't like me, and it's clouding his judgment.”

“That's another thing.” He frowned, his leg still bouncing. It was strange to see calm Chris so agitated. Usually, he never had nervous tics. Daisy had always figured that she had enough anxiety for the pair of them. The more wound up Chris got, the calmer Daisy felt, as if there wasn't room for her neuroses anymore. It was an unfamiliar sensation to be the sane one, but Daisy kind of liked it.

“What is?” she asked.

“Rob's problem with you. Everyone else who's met you falls in love within five minutes, but Rob's determined that you're some delusional, attention-seeking psychopath.” He gave her an apologetic glance. “Sorry. I didn't mean to tell you all of that.”

“It's fine.” She tried to force a smile, but his unhappy look deepened, so she couldn't have been very successful. “I figured as much, especially after listening in to your side of the conversation just now.”

Chris gave her a brief, chiding look but let her admission of eavesdropping go surprisingly easily. She supposed they had more important things to discuss than her lack of manners. It baffled her how loyal Chris was to the sheriff, how he and Daisy's new circle of friends all thought Rob was a wonderful guy. It was as if he was a completely different person around Daisy than with everyone else. Was she seeing the real Sheriff Coughlin, or was he truly a stand-up guy, and she was just blinded by her resentment?

With a groan, Chris stood, interrupting her frustrated thoughts.

“I'd better go help Laurie with his tire-cover theft ring.” He rolled his neck, as if stretching out the kinks of annoyance. “With Rob acting so out of character, I don't want to push him too far. If I get fired, the only job I'll be able to get around here is with Lou at The Coffee Spot.”

“You could work for Highway Patrol,” she suggested, taking his proffered hands and allowing him to help her to her feet. “I like their squad cars. Very sporty.”

His laugh was a little rusty, but at least it was there. “I don't know if I could do traffic all day. I like my job—at least I
did
, before my boss went nuts on me.”

“Why doesn't Simpson have a police department?” she asked, leading the way out of the training room. “Is it too small?”

“It's big enough to have one if they wanted, but the city council has always contracted with Field County. I think the idea of starting up a city law-enforcement agency is intimidating, and Rob's always done a good job covering Simpson, as well as the county.”

They reached the front door, and Daisy turned, intending to say something, but the awed look on his face stopped her.

“Look at that,” he said, running his fingers over the vertical column of locks, all unlatched. “I'm so proud of you, Dais.” His gaze shifted to her face, and his expression of fierce pride made her feel like the most amazing woman in the world.

“Thank you.” She turned her head to look at the door so she didn't give in to the temptation to blurt out how much she loved him and hurl herself into his arms. When her gaze settled on the unsecured inner door, she smiled broadly.
She
, Daisy Little, hoarding Amish grandma, had done that. It made her think that maybe, just maybe, she could have a future with Chris.

Right now, she felt like anything was possible.

It was harder than the night she'd left the first chain lock undone. Daisy couldn't stay still, much less sleep. Every time she paused, even for a second, she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that the inner door was completely unlocked. It didn't matter that the exterior door was locked, or that she lived in the tiny, mostly crime-free town of Simpson, or that she had a deputy on speed-dial. The unsecured door made her feel as vulnerable as if she were lying naked in the front yard.

She tried to think of something she could bake that didn't require eggs, but she was too distracted to do more than pull a few ingredients out of the cupboards. When she caught herself staring blankly into the sugar canister, Daisy decided that attempting to prepare edible food when she couldn't concentrate for more than two seconds at a time was probably a dangerous idea.

After putting away the items and cleaning the kitchen, she wandered into the study. Although the dolls still freaked her out, they were growing on her a little. It might have been because both were doing so well in their online auctions. Apparently, there were a lot of people who didn't feel that the antique dolls were toys of the devil.

She booted up her laptop. After deleting a few junk emails, she opened up an Internet browser. Only two minutes later, she shut down her computer, unable to sit still.

Checking the clock on the desk, she groaned. It wasn't even one yet, and it felt like an entire week had gone by since Chris had left to help Lawrence with the missing tire cover. He'd called her after he'd gotten off work, but he'd been distracted, so they'd ended the call shortly after she'd confirmed that she was doing fine.

Daisy wandered into the training room. Friday was officially her rest day, but she figured it could still be considered Thursday night, if she really wanted to lie to herself. She jumped and grabbed the pull-up bar, swinging back and forth like a kid on the monkey bars. When her hands started to sting from the friction, she lifted her legs up and over the bar, releasing the grip of her fingers so she hung upside-down by her knees.

Her spine popped as she dangled from the bar, and she thought of how different the room looked from her inverted position. When her face burned from too much blood flowing into it and her eyes felt like they were about to pop out of her head, she swung back and forth, flipping her legs off of the bar to land on her feet. Unfortunately, she couldn't stick the landing, and she fell back on her butt with a grunt.

Glad that she didn't have an audience for that ungraceful maneuver, she scrambled to her feet and headed for the treadmill. If she didn't do
something
physical, she was going to lose the battle raging in her head, run to the door, and fasten every single lock, erasing all of her progress.

As she settled into her warm-up jog, she thought about how Lou had mentioned at their last training session that she wanted to set up Daisy with a fireman named Steve. The thought of dating someone hadn't really occurred to her, except for her daydreams about Chris during unguarded moments. Lou's mention of the fireman, though, had her actually considering the idea.

The thought of dating a stranger made her stomach churn with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She tried to picture someone next to her on the couch while they watched a movie, or someone across from her at the dining room table as just the two of them shared a meal, or someone next to her in bed… Her insides clenched, and she shoved the last thought away. Even considering it felt like cheating.

Daisy growled as she increased the treadmill's speed, annoyed that she couldn't even think about dating someone who wasn't Chris without feeling guilty. They were only friends—friends who, up until a week or so ago, hardly even touched in a friendly way.

After they'd talked about her mom, though, Chris had touched her…a lot. Daisy reminded herself sharply not to read too much into the hugs and pats and knee-squeezing. They were still strictly friends, just huggier than they had been, and she was asking for awkwardness and long absences if she tried to push them into more.

Even her father didn't want to be in the same house with her, so Daisy wasn't sure why anyone else would, either.

“Stop,” she said out loud, annoyed with her angst and self-pity. She hit the button to increase the speed several times, until all she could think about was moving her feet and trying to breathe.

Working out killed an hour of the endless night, and a shower used up another twenty minutes by the time she was moisturized and dressed. She was exhausted, having finally crashed from her adrenaline surge, so she decided to attempt sleeping.

“This is probably a bad idea,” she muttered, pulling down the covers. She stared at the sheet-covered mattress for a while, but she just couldn't bring herself to lie down. As much as she longed for sleep, to be unconscious and oblivious until she woke refreshed in time for Chris's six a.m. breakfast visit, Daisy knew it wasn't going to happen. With a sigh, she headed for the window seat.

The second she sat, she was tempted to pop right back up again. Irritation with her restlessness kept her in place. Automatically, she checked each house across the street for any signs of movement. Ian and Rory's house was dark, with no light peeking around the shutters. Daisy couldn't remember if Ian was on duty or not. There was a reassurance to the idea that Ian and Rory were sleeping across the street, so she decided to pretend that Ian had the night off, and his house was not as empty as it looked.

The Storvicks' was almost equally dark, except for the dimmest glow from the younger daughter's bedroom. She always slept with a night-light. Corbin's computer must have been off or sleeping, since his window was pitch-black.

Almost reluctantly, Daisy shifted her gaze to number 304. Now that she knew there was blood in the living room, the building felt almost menacing. Had it really been a body Macavoy had been hauling out of the house that early, early morning? Was that where the blood had come from? If so, who was the poor dead person?

Her brain spun. No wonder Lou needed a whiteboard or an oversized pad of paper to organize her facts and theories. Keeping everything in her head was overwhelming and confusing. Daisy felt like she was thinking the same thoughts, the same questions, over and over. She looked at her phone where it was sitting quietly on her nightstand, and she was tempted to call someone.

Ellie had said she had trouble sleeping, but only when George was on a search and rescue call. Daisy had no way of knowing when and if he'd be gone, and she didn't want to wake up anyone in the middle of the night. Just because she couldn't sleep didn't mean she should share her misery.

An odd glow in one of the upper windows of the vacant house caught her attention. She stared, thinking she had imagined it at first, but then it got stronger. The light reminded her of the Storvick girl's night-light, just a muted illumination that was almost lost in the ambient light from the streetlamps.

The color was more orange than the night-light, though, almost an eerie red. Scooting closer to the window, Daisy stared at the odd glow, trying to puzzle out the source. It wasn't right for a flashlight, although it might be if someone had a hand in front of the beam.

Although she didn't want to take her eyes off the mysterious light, she needed to let someone know about it. She jumped off the window seat, grabbed her cell phone, and returned. Instead of sitting, she put one knee on the cushions and leaned forward.

The light was brighter, flickering and dancing, and Daisy sucked in a breath as she recognized the motion.

Fire.

The house was on fire. Fumbling a little, she pulled up the screen, planning to dial 9-1-1…but then she hesitated. If Libby or another dispatcher wanted her to talk to the sheriff before they sent the call to the fire department, the house could be burnt to the ground before anyone with hoses arrived. Instead, she pulled up her contacts and tapped on Ian's number.

The ringing felt like it continued forever, and she wanted to cry when Ian's recorded voice told her to leave a message. “Hi, Ian, it's Daisy. The white house that's for sale—the place two down from yours?—is on fire. I'm going to call Rory. Oh, it's about two forty-five in the morning.”

She ended the call and called Rory. This time, there were only three rings before she answered. Although the other woman's voice was a little gravelly, she sounded surprisingly alert, considering the time. “Daisy. What's wrong?”

“The house across the street is on fire.”

Daisy heard a sucked-in breath. “Ian's house?”

“No.” Even though Rory couldn't see her, Daisy shook her head. “Sorry. No. It's number 304. I see flames in the upstairs window.”

“Anyone inside?”

“I don't think so.”

“Did you call Dispatch?”

“No. The sheriff—” Daisy cut herself off. It would take too long to explain, and the orange-and-red flickering was getting brighter. “I'll explain later. Can you call it in?”

“I'm on it.” When Rory's voice came again, it was muted, like her head was turned away from the phone. Daisy figured she was giving the information to Dispatch over her radio. “Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“Libby's sending out the call. I'm at the shop, so I'm going to grab my gear and head out, but Ian and the other guys should beat me there. We'll get there soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Daisy wasn't sure why
she
was shaking. It wasn't like she was the one who'd be fighting the fire. “Thanks, Rory.”

“Thank
you
, Daisy, for spotting it.”

It was terrible, watching the flames get brighter as she sat there and did nothing. She couldn't take it any longer, so she focused her gaze on her phone. Chris would want to know, she decided, so she tapped his number. Like Rory, he answered quickly and sounded wide awake.

“Daisy. What's going on?”

“Hey, Chris. Sorry to wake you, but the house with the blood is on fire.” She lowered her forehead to her palm. She'd been halfway coherent when she'd talked to Rory, so why had she gone into babbleland as soon as Chris picked up the phone?

“What? Did you call Dispatch?” he asked.

“No, because of the whole sheriff thing, but I got ahold of Rory, and she called it in.” She heard the faint wail of sirens. “I hear them coming.”

“Good. That was smart.” His last words were muffled, and the phone crackled.

“Chris? Are you still there?”

“I'm here.” The line sounded clear again. “I'm getting dressed. I'll call you when I'm in the squad, okay?”

“Okay.”

The call ended, and she was back to being useless as the house burned. She looked away from the flames, trying to see if the fire had spread, but the other windows still looked dark. A shadow shifted on the far side of the house, grabbing her attention. She stared at the trees, trying to catch any other movement, but everything was still.

Deciding that it must have been her imagination, she returned her gaze to the glowing window. The sirens were getting louder, and the first engine turned into view, its flashing overhead lights blinding. To her relief, they cut the sirens as they pulled up in front of number 304.

The truck had barely stopped before three firefighters jumped out of the cab. Daisy recognized Ian, but the other two men were unfamiliar. They all seemed to know their individual tasks and moved with quick efficiency.

Lights turned on in the Storvicks' house. A second engine arrived, as well as a smaller truck. Daisy's cell phone rang in her lap, making her jump and hit her nose against the window. The screen showed it was Chris calling.

“Ow. Hi.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Her voice sounded a little nasally as she rubbed the throb out of her nose. “Just bumped the glass. I'm fine. Fire's here.”

“Good. I'm less than a minute out.” His words were clipped like they got when he was in cop mode. “Did you see anyone in the house before the fire started?”

“No, but I thought I saw something moving by the far side of the house right after I called you. It could've been anything.”

“I'll check it out.” His squad flew around the corner and stopped abruptly in front of her house. Daisy hurried downstairs, but he was already knocking by the time she reached the door. After she pushed the unlock button, she opened the inner door, focusing on Chris's large form rather than the gaping hole letting in the flashing lights from outside.

As he'd done before, he moved her bodily out of the way before closing the interior door. “It still blows my mind when you do that, Dais.” His crisp cop-voice had softened. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

His eyes did their own check, quickly sweeping her from head to feet. “Good. Show me where you saw the movement.”

She hurried upstairs, Chris following close behind, and led him through her bedroom to the window seat. The area lights mounted on one of the fire trucks had been raised and illuminated, so the entire property was almost as bright as it would've been in daylight. “It was on the far side of the house, next to that squatty-looking pine tree. I just caught a flicker in the corner of my eye, so it could've been my imagination.”

“Worth checking it out.” He headed toward the bedroom door. “Call if you need anything.”

“Okay,” she agreed, although she wasn't sure what she might need while the neighbors' house was on fire. She watched him leave, thinking of how strange it was to not follow him. Since he was capable of closing the interior door, and the outer one locked on its own, she wasn't needed for exits anymore. The change was equal parts freeing and terrifying.

While Chris had been distracting Daisy, Rory had arrived and was talking to the firefighter in the white helmet. From the way he was shouting orders and gesturing, Daisy guessed he was Chief Early. They'd gotten the front door open somehow, and Ian and another fireman—masks covering their faces and oxygen tanks strapped to their backs—were hauling hoses inside.