by Kayt Miller
With a shrug, she looks at her fingernails.
Dan keeps going. “Why did you take the photos, Daisy?” His voice has gotten soft, almost friendly. He’s trying to put her at ease.
I’m afraid of what she’ll say next.
Slapping her palm down onto the table suddenly, she growls, “Because. Why does he get to do whatever he wants? Cavorting with students.” She pretends to shiver. “It’s disgusting.” Pointing at Dan, she adds, “He’s still fucking married to my mother.”
“I understand.” He says it so quickly I’d be surprised if she understood a word out of his mouth.
“It’s disgusting. Don’t you think?”
“Sure.” Dan nods.
I give her words some thought. Dorian’s relationship with Kara is definitely inappropriate, but disgusting? I can’t go that far.
I scoot my seat closer to the window. The urge to reach out and touch her is so strong I have to fight it.
“So, what did you plan to do with the photos?” Dan asks.
She shrugs. “I needed money.”
“From your father?”
“No.” She scoffs. “That penny pincher. Kara was going to pay me for them.”
“Kara? Why would she pay for the photos?”
“Because.” She rolls her eyes like Dan’s an idiot. “I threatened to tell her father about her little affair and about her sudden grade improvement.”
Daisy knew about Kara’s grades?
Dan asks, “Did you help your dad with his grades?”
Wait. She told me she hadn’t helped him.
“Of course.” Another hard eye roll. “My father is a lazy asshole. Hell, I write his books and papers for him too.”
Wait? What?
“Is that how you got the pink envelope? When you graded for him?”
“Yeah. Kara submitted her papers in it.”
Which is how it has both Kara’s and Dorian’s fingerprints. But here’s the part I wish Dan would ask her about. She writes for her father?
“You said Kara was going to pay you. Did she?”
“Some.”
“But not all?”
Daisy’s voice lowers, and she growls, “No.”
“Why not?”
She looks off to her right.
“Why didn’t she pay you, Daisy?”
“She said she didn’t have the cash, but I knew she was lying. She’d just gone shopping. She came home with a whole new outfit. A pretty flowered dress, shoes, the works.”
A flowered dress? She was wearing a flowered dress….
No.
“When was this?”
Daisy looks at Dan and then at me. Or at the two-way glass. Her eyes pierce my heart. “Is Gage here yet?”
Yes.
“Not yet.” He shifts some of his papers around on the table. “Was it that night, Daisy?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”
“Daisy, I need you to be honest with me.”
“Honest with you?” She slaps the table again. “What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you I killed her?” Her head jerks closer to Dan. “Huh?”
My body is frozen in place. I can barely breathe.
“Well, I did. That fucking bitch wouldn’t pay me a cent. She said she didn’t care if her father knew.” With a scoff, she adds, “She didn’t even want to see the new pictures.”
New pictures? Was Dorian still seeing Kara?
Standing suddenly, Daisy jabs a finger at Dan. “I had plans for that money. I was going to get the hell out of Ames, start a new life without my fucking father breathing down my neck.”
“Daisy—”
“No.” Her body turns slightly as she takes a step.
I stand as well and place my hands on the glass. Her demeanor changed so suddenly, it made the hair on my arms stand on end. Without looking at him, I tell the captain, “She needs a lawyer.” Or a psychologist. “Does her father know she waived her rights?”
“Yes.”
I turn to look at Billings. “And he’s letting this go on?” What kind of father does that?
The captain’s voice is suddenly gentle. “He said he’s been dealing with her for long enough.”
I scoff. “So he’s just giving her up?”
“She murdered someone, Gage.”
It makes no difference. Dorian Buchanan should be doing whatever he can to protect his child, but he’s not.
But neither am I.
My attention is drawn back to Daisy as Dan says, “Have a seat, Daisy.” His voice dropped an octave with those words.
Ignoring him, she takes one step. “This is all his fault.”
“Your father’s?”
“Yes!” she screams, taking another step closer. “I should have fucking killed him with that stupid golf club! He’s the one who deserves to die.”
She’s around the side of the table now.
“Daisy. Please sit.”
Her voice suddenly changes from angry and loud to soft and sweet. “You believe me, right?” The sound coming from her is almost creepy. “It’s all my daddy’s fault.”
Daddy? She went from spewing vitriol about her father one minute and smiling sweetly the next. I think I may understand why her father asked me which Daisy lived with me. I think there may be more than one.
“Daisy,” Dan says softly. “Please sit. Let’s talk.”
Right then, Finch steps into the interrogation room. Hell, I didn’t even know he was here. From my vantage point, I see him smile as he says, “Hey, Daisy.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “It’s you.”
“Yep, it’s me. The guy who loved your cookies.”
Smart thing to say. I could tell Daisy was close to losing her cool.
That makes her smile. “I’m a good cook.” She beams as she moves away from Dan.
“You are.”
I’m not sure why, but at that moment, Dan makes a stupid mistake by announcing, “Daisy, I’m afraid we’ll need to take you back to the holding cell.”
“No!” The scream that comes out of her is best described as bloodcurdling. “Not you too.”
She lunges for Dan, but before she can get to him, Finch has her on the ground. He slips on cuffs as Daisy writhes on the ground while shouting obscenities.
I should do something. I should help her, them. But all I seem to be able to do is stare at the scene in front of me.
How did I not see any of it? Was I so blind and desperate for someone to love that I wasn’t able to see the murderous forest for the beautiful trees?
God, I’m a shit cop.
I stare as they escort Daisy back to the holding cell. She’s literally kicking and screaming, while I sit in the booth, frozen. I can’t move. Hell, I can’t even think.
“How could I have been so wrong?”
“It happens, son.” The captain’s voice sounds sort of soft. I don’t like it.
“Not to me.” I scoff. “I thought I was a good cop.”
“You are. You’re an excellent cop. You just let yourself fall for that girl. If what her father says is true, Daisy’s had problems for a long, long time. It’s why he didn’t want her to have visitors and why he monitored her.”
I want to believe that, but something tells me Dorian Gray Buchanan is just as culpable in all this as Daisy. “She needs a good lawyer.”
“Her father said he had a call in.”
“She needs help, sir.” Not to be locked away in a prison cell for the rest of her life.
“She does, but she killed a young woman, and for that, she needs to pay.”
I know. I just can’t say it.
In a slightly upbeat tone, he adds, “The good news is they dropped the charges against Tayler.”
“Good.” I nod, but I don’t feel excited about the news. I’m sure the women on Beedle Drive will all be thrilled it’s over.
“Go home, son. Come in bright and early. We need to talk.”
About whether or not I’ve got a job
, no doubt.
Hell, do I even want the job? Maybe being a cop isn’t for me.
But what else is there?
Epilogue
Six Months Later
I pause my work in the kitchen when a knock sounds on my front door. “It’s open,” I say loud enough for her to hear, then wait and watch.
When she opens the door, a big smile slides across her face, which causes a chain reaction. Like my heart jumping in my chest at the sight of her. I smile back, of course. When she walks around the counter, gets up on her tiptoes, and kisses me on the cheek, saying, “Hey, babe,” I feel it everywhere.
Turning to face her, I lean down and kiss her lips. “Hey. How you doin’?”
“Good now, unicorn.”
I roll my eyes. She doesn’t call me “unicorn” often, but every once in a while, she throws it out there. “I’m just an average man, Kat.”
“Ha! You’re definitely not average, Gage.” She laughs, then pats my ass as she moves around me to the fridge. “Beer?”
I’m not sure if she’s asking me if she can have one or if I want one. The answer to both is “Yes.”
“Ooh, you got the good stuff.” She sets a couple bottles of a local brew next to the steaks on the counter, and I reach out to open hers. Those caps can be tough.
“See?” She points at the bottle. “Right there. You didn’t even think about it. You just took my bottle to open it because you know I have a hard time getting the caps off.”
“And?” I hand her back an open bottle.
“That’s unicorn shit.”
I laugh as I tap my bottle against hers. “Just a man, Kat.”
With an eye roll, she leans a hip on my counter. “What can I do to help?”
“Make the salad?”
Tonight we’re celebrating, sort of. This will be our first party since we’ve decided to be official. It took a long time to get to this point, something I insisted on after everything with Daisy.
Daisy.
Whenever I think of her, my heart hurts. And not because I feel sorry for myself. No, I feel sorry for her. Mind you, I’m not happy she played me like she did, like a fucking piano, but she was—is—mentally ill. That’s not my diagnosis, it was the court ordered psychiatrist’s. Because of that, she never did stand trial. Her lawyer was able to use insanity as a defense, and the Story County District Attorney’s office made a deal. She’s in a maximum-security mental health facility in Northwest Iowa now and will be for many years.
The day after Daisy confessed to killing Kara, she and her attorney sat down with Finch and me in the interrogation room. I guess her lawyer advised her it’d be in her best interest to cooperate. She was subdued and exhausted. I could tell she’d spent the night crying by her red, puffy eyes, but the interesting part about it was how normal she seemed. The day before, she was erratic—smiling one minute, growling the next. But the day she confessed, she was the Daisy I recognized. And in the course of that conversation, she told us about her safety deposit box at First National Bank that held more photos of Kara and Dorian and a few of just Dorian doing mundane things like grocery shopping and jogging. She also gave us the combination to a storage unit where she kept her other computer and the clothing she wore the night of the murder. In all, it was pretty cut and dry. I think she was almost relieved to have the truth out there.
Not everyone was happy with the outcome, however. Kara Becker’s father for one. He’s suing Dorian Buchanan for wrongful death. I suppose you’re wondering how he could do that. Well, Becker feels that since Dorian knew Daisy’s diagnosis, knew she was dangerous and still let her live across the hallway from his daughter unchecked, he should be liable.
So far, the case hasn’t been thrown out, so we’ll see if it’ll hold water. I’m not so sure.
As for Dorian? He took a leave of absence from Iowa State University. I’m not sure if that was his idea or the university’s, but I’d be surprised if he came back since they learned that most of his published work was done by Daisy. It’s grounds for losing his tenure, and his reputation is in shambles.
“So, how was patrol last night?”
I’m brought back to the here and now by Kat’s question. “Good. A little boring. Nothing major happened. Some speeding tickets, and a couple asshole students thought it’d be funny to knock down a few stop signs in Campustown.”
I’m back on my regular patrol duties per my request. While I enjoyed many aspects of detective work, this is what I need right now. Perhaps in the future, I’ll request the change, but not right now. No, right now I want to focus on other things. Like the person standing in my kitchen. The one who makes me smile every single day. The one who made sure I was okay after everything with Daisy happened.
“Idiots,” she grumbles. “How drunk were they?”
I chuckle at her response. “They weren’t.”
“I repeat, idiots.”
“Yep.”
We smile at each other. And we look. I start at her dark hair. It’s down today and shiny, as usual. Her face looks fresh and makeup free, but I know she has some on; she’s definitely got something pink on her pretty lips. I scan down to her simple V-neck tee above a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Her feet are covered in a pair of Birkenstocks. They look like they’ve seen better days, but she must love them because she wears them every day. I like them too because they give me a chance to see what color her toenails are today. They’re red.
“Cute toes,” I say softly as they step closer to me.
“Everything about you is cute.” Her voice has gotten soft and a little husky.
I recognize it. It’s her sexy voice. I also know when I look into her eyes, they’ll be dilated. We haven’t done it yet. Sex. We’ve done a lot of other things, but not the actual deed, and that’s on me. I hope to remedy that tonight after everyone leaves. I think we’ve done this right, because I wanted to take this thing with Kat and me slow. It’s probably not fair to her, but after the speed with which I ended up in bed with Daisy and the rash decisions I made, I had to take things slow this time around.
The thing between Kat and me started while I was in Missouri. The captain insisted I take a couple weeks off after Daisy’s confession, so I took the opportunity to head home to spend time with my family. While I was there, Kat and I talked almost every night. She started it off by getting my number from Quinn and calling me after hearing about Daisy. Her thoughtfulness touched me. She was concerned about me and my broken heart while I was only concerned about Daisy.
After I returned to Ames, Kat and I kept right on talking. For over a month we spoke almost every day. The days we didn’t, I missed her. Then, sometime in the second month, we went for a run. She’s stuck to her plan of doing a 5K this year, and I plan to do it with her. Watching her strive for her goals is one of my favorite things to do. Kat is intense when she’s working toward a goal. She’s like me in that way.
After that run, we met often for coffee, lunch, and dinner. We saw a couple of movies together. Then I made dinner for her one night at my house. That was the night I kissed her. I was nervous as hell because I wasn’t sure she felt the same way about me. But the minute our lips touched, I heard her whisper, “Finally,” and I knew.
I knew that this, Kat, was worth the wait.
Thanks for reading! If you’d like to check another one of Kayt’s books, here’s a good one:
Isabelle "Izzy" Harmon is home again. Literally. After landing her first teaching gig, Izzy has found herself sleeping in her old room on an ancient twin bed that squeaks whenever she moves. Sure, she loves Honeywell, Iowa but part of her wanted to move to civilization rather than return to her old life after graduating from college. Farm life is in her blood but so is the man who lives next door. It’s too bad he never saw her as more than his best friend’s little sister.
It’s true what they say… distance makes the heart grow fonder and four years away did nothing to quell the way Izzy’s heart rate doubles whenever he's nea
rby. She hoped to get over it, but things don't always work out the way we hope.
Nashville "Nash" Watson never left. His goal of playing baseball in the majors flew out the window the second he found out he was going to be a father. No regrets, though, because Nash figured he'd return to Honeywell, Iowa to farm his family's land. It was the only thing he knew for sure. Well, that and he's never falling for another woman again. Ever.
Never say never, Nash.
Also by Kayt Miller
For more information: www.kaytmiller.com
Bedhead
Redhead
Deadhead
FarmBoy
Game Changer
One of a Kind
The Virginia Chronicles
Our of the Blue: The Flynns Book One
Mick’sology: The Flynns Book Two
Vested Interest: The Flynns Book Three
The Importance of Being Ernie: The Flynns Book Four
The Importance of Being Kennedy’s: The Flynns Book Five
Quirky Girl: The Flynns Book Six
The Art of the Game
Lainie: The Palmer Sisters Book 1
Agatha: The Palmer Sisters Book 2
Sadie: The Palmer Sisters Book 3
Cortland: The Palmer Sisters Book 4
Keely: The Palmer Sisters Book 5
Violet: The Palmer Sisters Book 6
Molly: The Palmer Sisters Book 7
The Portrait Painter
Hopeful Romantic (Coming soon.)
Thanks to Margie Dill (Coming soon.)
Acknowledgments
Thank you to everyone from Hot Tree Editing for editing this book from start to finish.
And an extra special thank you to Becky Johnson at Hot Tree Promotions for your advice, expertise, and positivity.
And to my beta readers. Your feedback and patience is essential to this process. Thank you!
And to my mom who is the wind beneath my wings. Literally.
