by Katie Ruggle
“Not when you’ll be on nights in a few days.”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either. Well, until around seven this morning.” Although she attempted to keep the accusation out of her tone, she didn’t try that hard. Shuffling into the kitchen, she headed for the single-cup coffee brewer.
“Make me a hazelnut one?” Chris asked.
“Mine first,” she grumbled, eyeing his obnoxiously chipper and wide-awake expression. “I need caffeine worse than you do.” He’d obviously showered, since his normally unruly blond hair was behaving. His scruff was gone too, so he’d even shaved. Daisy missed the stubble. It gave a rough edge to his too-perfect handsomeness.
“Dais?” There was a note of amusement underlying his voice. “You fall back asleep?”
She blinked at him. “Huh?”
With a laugh, he reached past her and pushed the “on” button. “You zoned out on me. I figured you’d mentally gone back to bed.”
“Wish I could,” she grumbled, staring hard at the trickle of coffee making its way into her mug. The sleepiness faded, and the memory of what she’d witnessed in the wee hours started to loop through her mind. As she stood in the kitchen with Chris, the midmorning sunlight streaming through the window above the sink, the whole possible-dead-body incident seemed surreal.
“Any reason you were awake all night, or just the usual?” He grabbed the mug he always used, the one Daisy had painted in fifth grade. Being quite the young narcissist, she’d covered the surface in a multitude of her namesake flower.
Focusing intently on adding creamer to her cup, she mentally debated what to tell him. By the time she put her spoon in the sink, she’d decided. “I saw something really strange last night—this morning, actually.”
Most of his attention on his coffee-making, Chris just gave an absent, “Hmm?”
“One of your brethren was parked in front of the white house across the street—the one that’s been for sale forever?” Now that she’d had a few sips of coffee, the fog around her brain was beginning to lighten.
“My brethren?” He raised an eyebrow.
Daisy shrugged, careful not to spill her coffee. “It was a sheriff’s department squad. Not sure which deputy was on the call, though.”
“At an empty house?” The brewer gave a final gurgle, and Chris pulled out the daisy mug, lifting it to his mouth in the same motion. “What was the call?”
“Since you won’t get me my own emergency-services radio,” she said, mostly joking, “I don’t know what the call was. But it was weird.”
He used the hand not holding his coffee to make a “go on” gesture.
“When I first saw the squad, I figured that Corbin was getting a stern talking-to, but the Storvicks’ house was dark.”
Chris groaned. “What’s that little delinquent up to now?”
“Nothing that I know about…yet. I saw him arguing with someone on the phone a couple of nights ago, right before he smashed his cell against the wall.”
Chris closed his eyes for a second, and his shoulders dropped in a silent sigh. “Dramatic little bastard. Thanks, Dais. I’ll let the sheriff know we can expect another damage-to-property call from the girlfriend’s family.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
“So, if it wasn’t Corbin Storvick, what was a deputy doing here?”
She eyed him over her coffee mug. “It was weird.”
“You said that. Weird how?”
“Before I tell you, you have to promise not to think I’m crazy.” In the warm morning light, Daisy was beginning to doubt what she’d seen.
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” He took a sip of coffee.
“Fine.” She cupped her mug in both hands, since her fingers felt cold. “I’ll just tell you the facts, exactly how I saw things, and you can come to your own conclusions.”
“Works for me.” Setting his mug on the counter, he boosted himself up next to it. “Let’s hear it.”
“Okay. So, I’d just beaten the stuffing out of Max—whom I love, by the way. Thank you again for him.” When Chris just waved off her thanks, she continued. “I went back to my room around three thirty, and I saw the squad parked outside. Since no one was in it, I waited for the deputy to return.”
“No weirdness yet.”
She frowned at him. “It’s coming. Now, listen. About five or ten minutes later, I saw someone walking along the side of the house.”
“Which one?”
“The for-sale one. Number 304.”
“No, which side?”
“Oh! The one facing the Storvicks.”
He made the “continue” flick with his hand again.
“This person is dressed all in black and is carrying a very large, tarp-wrapped object over his shoulder.” It was hard to resist adding “body-shaped” to the list of adjectives. “He opens the back of the squad and puts the…object inside.”
“Wait.” Chris frowned. “The deputy was dressed in black?”
“Yep. Did I mention that this was weird?”
“Did you recognize him?”
She shook her head.
“You’re sure it’s a him, though?”
“Yes. Almost a hundred percent sure. Unless you have some really tall and built female deputies?”
“No. There are two women with the department, but I don’t think you could mistake either for a man.”
“Then he was male.”
Although the frown between his eyebrows remained, he waved for her to continue.
“While the guy is putting the object into the back of the SUV, a boot falls out of the bottom of the tarp.”
“A boot?”
“A boot.” As much as she wanted to stay objective, Daisy couldn’t take it anymore. “A boot! From a foot! Which is connected to the possible dead body that this guy was taking somewhere, probably to join the headless guy in Mission Reservoir!”
So much for sounding levelheaded. Daisy shut her mouth with a snap, but the words were out, and she couldn’t suck them back in, no matter how badly she wanted to.
After staring at her for a long moment, Chris took a sip of his coffee. His maddening calm made her want to rip his mug away from him and throw it across the kitchen. Daisy reminded herself that tossing coffee around would not help the goal of making him think she wasn’t crazy.
“A body.”
“Yes.” Since her attempt at a factual retelling was already blown, she figured she might as well tell him everything. “Whatever he was carrying in that tarp was shaped like a person. When he dropped it into the back, it even flopped around like a dead body would.”
“Hmm.”
Chris had on his cop face. He hardly ever used his cop face with her, and Daisy’s chest felt tight. Beneath that mask, was he thinking about what a nut ball she was? She desperately hoped telling him this wouldn’t damage their friendship—any more than it already was, at least. It was just that there was a boot. Surely, Chris would understand the importance of that boot.
“Where’d he go?” he asked, finally ending the silence.
“I’m…um, not sure.” She made a face, not wanting to admit the less-than-brave truth. “He started looking up toward my window, and I was afraid he’d see me, so I kind of jumped back and…well, I tripped.”
“You tripped.” His face was blank, and she really wished he’d stop using that impassive tone of voice with her.
“I tripped,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. Their stare-off continued until Daisy knew she was going to lose—she always did—so she started talking again to distract him. “By the time I got back to the window, he was gone.”
Although he made that aggravating noncommittal sound again, his gaze was thoughtful. He focused on the mug in his hands as if his coffee were a crystal ball.
; After waiting for what she felt was a more than sufficient amount of time for him to consider the situation, Daisy couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “So?”
“It was dark.”
It was a statement rather than a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes. The moon was bright when the clouds weren’t covering it, but the streetlights out there are pretty much useless unless someone’s standing directly under one.”
“You’re sure that he wasn’t in uniform?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes to bring the memory of the scene into better focus before opening them again. “Yes. He was all in black—boots, pants, and coat with the hood up.”
“What’d he look like?” The intensity of his gaze flustered her, making her feel like she was the subject of an interrogation. It was just Chris’s way of asking questions, she told herself, trying to ignore her discomfort and focus on answering.
“I didn’t see his face, and the angle from upstairs makes it hard to judge, but I think he was fairly tall. Not skinny, but the coat made it hard to tell if he was muscular or just chunky. I took a video, but it’s really dark.” Pulling out her phone, she found the video and handed her cell to Chris.
As he watched it, frowning, he asked, “Did you get the squad number off the SUV?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Anything distinctive about the guy? The way he walked or held himself?” Chris held out her cell.
Accepting her phone, she closed her eyes for a moment again, but it didn’t help that time. “No. He was walking through snow and carrying something heavy and dead-body-like, so…oh!” The thought made her bounce, remaining coffee sloshing around in her mug. “The snow! There’ll be footprints!”
Draining his cup, he rinsed it out and left it in the sink. “I’ll check it out.”
Chris pulled on his outerwear and let himself out the interior door. After bolting it behind him, Daisy dashed for her bedroom window. She watched as he headed toward number 304. He took pictures of the tracks on both sides of the building with his phone before circling to the back yard.
Waiting impatiently for him to reappear, she wished she could just walk out of the house and join him. Merely catching a glimpse of the front door was enough to make her dizzy, though, so she doubted she’d be visiting the great outdoors anytime soon.
“Coward,” she muttered, letting her head tilt against the chilled glass. “No wonder he won’t even let you give him a hug. You’re a scaredy-freak.”
The glass reflected her unhappy expression. In high school—when she’d gone to high school—she’d been considered pretty enough. She’d been shy, though, and the attention her early developing body had attracted had made her more nervous than flattered. Her caramel-colored hair used to get blonde streaks from the sun, and her skin had tanned easily. Her mouth was full and wide, her teeth straight enough to never need braces, and dimples dented her cheeks when she smiled. She liked her eyes—greenish-gold with thick lashes.
Surely not all of that could have changed?
It was hard to look in a mirror and judge her own appearance, though. Daisy knew she was pale, and her hair was darker without help from the sun, but she didn’t think she was ugly. The fitness room kept her toned and muscular. However, without outside feedback—flirty, interested looks from guys or the honest critique of a female friend—she didn’t know if she’d be considered attractive. As much as she wanted him to, Chris never seemed to notice what she looked like at all.
Shaking herself out of her introspective funk, she saw Chris crossing the yard. Next door, Corbin was walking on the path that ran in front of his house. He’d almost reached the driveway where his Jeep was parked when he spotted the deputy. Although Chris wasn’t in uniform, Corbin must have recognized him, because the teen lowered his head and hurried back toward the front door.
“Ooh, you’ve done something bad, baby creeper,” Daisy said. “Get him, Chris!”
Chris was already striding toward Corbin, his long legs moving quickly through the snow. Before the boy could step onto the porch, the deputy was next to him. Daisy wished for binoculars once again, plus the ability to read lips, as Chris talked for several minutes. Corbin kept his head down, except for an occasional nod or head shake.
When Chris finally headed back to Daisy’s front door, she scrambled off the window seat and rushed down the stairs to let him inside. Slapping the button to unlock the exterior door, she unfastened the dead bolts and chains. In her excitement to hear what he’d discovered about the mystery deputy’s early morning visit—plus the smack-down he’d hopefully given Corbin—she jerked open the door without pausing to listen for the usual click of the latch.
As it swung wide, exposing the still-open exterior door, she felt as if all the blood drained from her body. A wide rectangle of sunlight outlined a startled-looking Chris. Her eyes fixed on that too-bright expanse over his shoulder, that yawning hole that allowed in all the dangers and horrors of the outside world. Her heart thudded in her ears, the beats so fast they started blending together. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare at that terrible brightness.
Her vision blurred and tilted…right before the world went black.
Chapter 3
There was no fuzziness to soften her humiliation. As soon as Daisy opened her eyes and saw Chris’s concerned face framed by her entryway ceiling, she knew what had happened. His hand was at her throat, and his cell phone was pressed to his ear.
“She’s regaining consciousness. Pulse is seventy-two.” His voice was clipped as he relayed the information to whoever was on the other end of the call, but it softened when he spoke to her. “Hey, Dais. You back with me?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, yes. I’m fine. But you better not be calling for an ambulance, Chris Jennings, or I’m going to be super pissed.”
He frowned at her. “Yes, she’s conscious and alert now.”
“I am. Conscious, alert, and in no need of medical assistance.” She tried to sit, but he moved his hand from her throat to her upper chest to keep her lying flat. He was squatting next to her, still in his boots, coat, and hat. “Chris. I’m serious. Cancel the ambulance.”
“You hit your head.” Once he said it, a corresponding throb lit up the back of her skull. “I tried to catch you, but I wasn’t quick enough.”
She probed the lump on the back of her head, restraining a wince. “It’s just a minor bump.” Despite her best efforts at trying to stay calm, she could hear a hint of panic in her voice. “Please, Chris. I’ll have to explain why I fainted in the first place, and what if they want to take me to the hospital?” Tears threatened to compound her humiliation as she grabbed for him, catching a handful of the BDUs covering his calf.
His silence squashed her hope, and a tear escaped. Gritting her teeth, she turned her head, burying her face against his leg in an attempt to hide.
Chris swore. “Sorry, Libby. That wasn’t directed at you. Go ahead and have Med stand down.”
Stupidly, relief made Daisy cry harder. Chris’s hand moved from her chest to cup the back of her head. Freed, she rolled to her side, tucking her face even farther under his knee until her forehead bumped his boot.
“Appreciate it, Libby. Uh-huh.” His hand stroked Daisy’s hair as he spoke absently into his phone. “Okay. Thanks again.” He must have ended the call, because suddenly both of his hands were free. Rocking back to sit on the tiles, Chris hauled her into his lap.
The shift in position startled her, thankfully stopping the flow of tears. She held herself stiffly for a second and then relaxed into his chest, too worn out to fight him. The material of his coat was rough against her damp cheek, but his arms were locked tightly around her, which was nice.
“Dais,” he muttered, using his thumb to wipe the residual wetness from the exposed side of her face.
“Sorry.” Her sigh shuddere
d with leftover tears. “Thanks for canceling the ambulance.”
His fingers moved to feel the sore spot on the back of her head. The unexpected contact sent a throb of pain through her skull, and she couldn’t help flinching away from his touch.
“I probably shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, his fingers returning to the aching bump. “What if your skull’s fractured?”
“My skull’s not fractured. Ow!” She swatted at his probing hand. “If you don’t stop pushing on it, though, yours might be. Quit it! What are you trying to accomplish by poking at me, anyway?”
“I don’t know.” Thankfully, he stopped. “Just making sure you don’t have brains leaking out or anything.”
“Gross.” She made a face and then tried to stand. As nice as it was to be in Chris’s arms, she didn’t want to be held because he pitied her. “I don’t. My brains are all where they should be, and they’re still greatly superior to whatever’s in your thick skull.”
At first, he resisted letting her go, but then he snorted, and his body relaxed. “Please. We both know that I’m the genius of this operation.” As he climbed to his feet, he helped her stand, as well. She was grateful for his grip on her arms when the room wobbled around her. It quickly straightened, and she stepped back, slipping free of Chris’s hold. After locking the interior door, she moved into the kitchen.
“Hah.” She suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired and would have paid a great deal of money to be able to sit down again. She didn’t trust Chris not to have Libby send the ambulance after all, though, so she feigned nonchalance and leaned against the counter, letting it support a good portion of her weight. “My brain would totally kick your brain’s ass in a death match.”
The worried crease between his eyebrows eased slightly. “Would not.”
“Would too.”
“Not.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Whatever, Einstein. Tell me what you found.”
“Found?”
Gesturing in the general direction of the street, she prompted, “At 304? Oh, and what’d you say to Corbin? Did you see him sprint for the house when he saw you? That boy did something naughty.”
