by Katie Ruggle
“What are you doing?” Guilt leant a snap to his voice, and Tyler took a step back.
“Helping.” Tyler held out the garbage bag. After a long moment, Rob sighed and accepted it.
“You shouldn’t help.” Rob stepped farther into the shelter of the porch before he dragged off his boots, BDUs, and sweatshirt. Although Esko Hills was a nice neighborhood, a good place to raise a family, it had more than its share of busybodies and curious gazes. “I’m your dad. It’s my responsibility to take care of things like this, not yours. Your job is to go to school and not get into trouble.” He gave his son a meaningful look.
Dropping his gaze to the floor, Tyler muttered, “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
“We’ve talked about this.” In just his boxer briefs and socks, the air was cold against his skin. Rob hurried to shove his clothes into the garbage bag and yanked the drawstring. “Every time, you risk exposing yourself—and me.”
His son’s shoulders curled forward. “I know.”
“C’mon.” Rob reached to put a hand on the back of Tyler’s neck, but stopped when he saw blood smeared across his thumb and index finger. “Let’s go inside.”
As the door closed behind them, Tyler turned. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” Rob used the soapy water to scrub at the smear on his right hand. Once the visible blood was gone, he uncapped the hydrogen peroxide and began pouring it over his hands.
“What really happened to Mom?”
He froze for a moment, watching the peroxide bubble on his skin. “What do you mean?”
“Until that day, she’d always come back. Always. And when you walked in and saw her hitting me… You looked really mad. Like, madder than I’ve ever seen you get.”
“Why are you asking this?”
Tyler lifted one thin shoulder. “I guess because you always take care of me. That, and I wondered why she stopped coming home.”
Drying his hands on a paper towel that he added to the garbage bag of clothes, Rob said, “Take these to the outdoor wood furnace, would you?” As much as he didn’t want his son involved in any part of this, no matter how small that part may be, Rob needed to escape the conversation. He’d never lied to Tyler, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“Sure.” Taking the bag, Tyler took a few steps toward the door and then paused. “Thank you. I used to be so scared she’d come back.”
Rob watched his son’s back until the door closed behind Tyler.
You’re welcome.
* * *
Her mom was sobbing. Daisy had never heard her mom cry—not like this. In her spot, crouched behind the snack-cake display, she shook and mentally called herself a coward. She should do something, help her mom somehow, but all she could do was cower and try to hold back the scream that wanted to escape. His finger tightened on the trigger—
The ringing of her cell phone brought her out of her nightmare with a jerk. Before she could figure out where she was, Daisy twisted toward the sound and fell off the window seat onto the hardwood floor.
“Ow,” she groaned, crawling toward where her still-ringing phone sat on her nightstand. By the time she reached it and saw that it was her dad, the call had gone to voice mail. She tapped her screen to call him as she sat on the floor, leaning her back against the side of the bed.
“Daisy,” he answered brusquely. “Let me in.”
“Oh, sorry!” She scrambled to her feet and headed for the bedroom door. “Have you been knocking? I was asleep.” Reaching the stairs, she flew down them two at a time.
“Yeah, I’ve been knocking for a while.” His tone had mellowed a little, although he still sounded short. “I was worried when you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” she repeated, pushing the unlock button. “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”
“Jennings called me. He told me you needed me to come home.”
“Chris said what?” Daisy realized she’d been talking and missed the sound of the exterior door latching. “Is the door locked again?”
“Yeah. Open up.”
She unfastened the locks with her left hand, her right keeping her phone pressed to her ear. When she opened the door to let her dad inside, she lowered her cell and made a face at it. “Guess there’s no need for these anymore. Hi, Dad.”
“What’s going on?” Gabe started shedding his boots and coat. He was short and wiry, and he hadn’t shaved his reddish-blond winter beard yet. Ever since she was a kid, people had said she looked exactly like her mother—they used to, at least, before her mom had been killed and Daisy had disappeared inside her house. “You okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” After relocking the door, she headed to the coffeemaker to start a cup of French roast for her father.
“Your deputy buddy was pretty insistent that I head home immediately. I only had a day and a half left on the Connor Springs project—it’ll be two days, now that I’m wasting this morning driving back and forth for no reason.” He hung up his coat and followed her into the kitchen.
“Sorry.” She ran through her last few conversations with Chris and shrugged. “I’m not sure why he thought you were needed here. Oh! I did mention that I wanted to have snacks when everyone comes over for training.”
“Training?”
“Lou Sparks asked if she could train with me and Chris, and then it kind of snowballed. Five or six people are coming over on Saturday afternoon.”
“Let me get this straight.” He glowered from under his bushy, light-colored brows. “Chris sent me tearing all the way over here because you’re throwing a party?”
It was on the tip of Daisy’s tongue to remind him that Connor Springs was only twenty miles away, but she swallowed the words. Gabe was building up to one of his rages, and she’d rather not have to clean up broken coffee mugs or explain new dents in the walls to her guests the next day.
“I’m not sure why he asked you to come here,” she said instead. “Did you want this coffee in a travel mug?”
His hand slapped the counter, the sound making her jump. “What do you think?” He stomped over to where he’d just left his boots. Daisy poured the French roast into a travel cup and secured the lid tightly. Her dad did not need to spill hot liquid on his lap. His head was already too close to spinning around, Exorcist-style.
As she waited for him to finish yanking on his coat, she debated whether she should ask him to pick up a few things before he left town again. When he turned toward her and she met his still-furious eyes, she silently held out his coffee instead. He snatched the cup and used his other hand to undo the locks, his abrupt movements testifying to his irritation. As soon as he was through the interior door, she hurried to close and relock it, knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to slam through the outer door in his current mood.
Once the locks were secured, she moved to the living room window, opening the blinds so she could watch his older blue pickup as it accelerated away from the house. He turned onto the cross street, and she gave a humorless snort of laughter. Even the jerky way he steered his truck showed his annoyance.
Heading back into the kitchen, she debated whether she wanted a cup of coffee. The caffeine would be welcome, but her stomach was churning from her dad’s visit, and she didn’t think acidic coffee would go down too well. Setting aside the mental debate, she called Chris.
“Daisy. What’s up?”
She was a little disappointed that he sounded wide awake. It would’ve served him right if she’d jerked him out of a deep sleep. “Why exactly did you call my dad and tell him I needed him here?”
“Because you do.”
“I do? Why?”
“You need groceries, for one.”
“Seriously?” She groaned. “I make a throw-away comment about giving my training guests some munchies, and you have my dad drive all the way from Connor Springs?” Great, no
w she’d started with the “all the way” nonsense. It must’ve been catching. “That’s not a necessity. I’ll just tell everyone that it’s BYOSD.”
“Connor Springs is not that far. Also…wait. BYO-what-now?”
“Bring Your Own Sports Drink,” she translated. “And I know it’s not far. My dad was annoyed about losing half a day of work, though.”
After a short silence, Chris spoke in a dark voice that gave her the shivers for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely. “How annoyed?”
“No crockery was broken.” She tried to keep her tone light, even faintly amused. “He wasn’t here long.”
“He left?” Again with the growly voice. “Why’d he even come back if he wasn’t going to stay?”
“After talking to you, I think he was convinced that I was dying. Once he saw that I was fine, he headed back to Connor Springs.”
“Why doesn’t he stay at home and commute to the job site every day? It’s Connor Springs, not Alaska.”
The answer to his question was something Daisy tried very hard not to think about, so she decided it was time to redirect the conversation. “Chris, I’m fine. Try to reserve the emergency calls to Dad for when I’m dying and/or dead, okay?”
“You’re not fine,” Chris said flatly. “Ever since you saw Macavoy moving that junk, you’ve been sleeping even less than usual, haven’t you?”
“No.” It was a lie. “In fact, Dad woke me up when he got here.”
“After what? An hour of sleep? Maybe two? You can’t do that to your body, Dais. You’ll go nuts.”
In a flare of defensive irritation, she snapped, “What does it matter, since I’m already crazy?”
There was another silence, which was finally broken by Chris’s sigh. “No, you’re not.”
She rubbed her forehead with a hand that shook. “What do you call not being able to leave the house? I’m not exactly rational.” Although she didn’t mention it, it didn’t seem exactly stable to mentally turn a pile of junk into a dead body, either. Maybe she was getting worse.
Instead of countering her argument, Chris suggested, “Why don’t you think about starting therapy again?”
“That didn’t work out so well.”
“Tell Gabe he can’t sleep with the new one. In fact, you can just remove all hot shrink temptation altogether and do sessions via video on your laptop.”
The thought of talking about the worst day of her life with a stranger, of admitting all her illogical yet overwhelming fears, made her wince. “I’ll think about it,” she lied, just so he’d drop it.
“Really think about it.” Okay, so he wasn’t going to drop it. “Rob said he was concerned about you, about what would happen if you were ever in a situation where you had to leave the house, and I agree with him. Daisy, you passed out when you just looked at the open door. Going on as you’ve been living isn’t making you better.”
It wasn’t anything she didn’t know, but it still tore up her insides to hear him talk about it. She opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure what—but then closed it again. If she spoke, he’d be able to tell that she was crying.
“Daisy? Dais?” She’d been quiet too long, apparently. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I think you’re cheating yourself by not getting help. You’re—”
She couldn’t listen to him any longer. Moving the phone away from her ear, Daisy ended the call. She just held the phone in front of her for a while, watching as the screen went blank. When it rang in her fingers, she jumped and then turned off the cell and left it on the kitchen counter.
Swiping at her wet cheeks, she blew out a breath. After a few more inhales, the shakiness disappeared, and she was able to stop crying. She left the phone where it was and went to go beat up Max.
It was amazing how violence could make her feel so much better. After abusing Max, she spent some time practicing with the heavy bag and the speed bag, then hopped on the treadmill for forty minutes. Afterward, she felt sweaty, disgusting, and much calmer—even a little sheepish about the way she’d hung up on Chris.
Daisy showered and then retrieved her phone, her finger hesitating over the “on” button. With a sigh, she figured she should just get it over with, so she turned on the cell. Once it came back to life, she saw that she had a dozen messages. The single one from Lou stood out amongst the eleven left by Chris. Like the chicken she was, Daisy listened to Lou’s first.
“Hey, Daisy! It’s Lou. I’m just checking to see if we’re still on for tomorrow. I hope so, since I am so excited about learning to kick some…hang on. I’ll be with you in a moment! Gotta go—customers.” The way Lou growled the word made Daisy smile. “Let me know if anything changes. Otherwise I’ll see you tomor— Just a minute! I’ll be right there to take your order!” Her voice dropped to a mutter. “Seriously? They can’t wait two seconds for their lattes? I tell you what, Daisy—I’m going to have some major aggression to work out tomorrow, so you’d better hope we don’t get paired up. Otherwise, it’s pow! And wham! And—Coming! Jeez Louise, Callum isn’t the only one who needs to learn patience. See you tomorrow!”
Daisy was laughing by the time Lou’s message ended, making it easier to listen to Chris’s. All of his were short, consisting of some variation of “Dais. Call me.” With a grimace, she tapped his name on her screen. He answered after a single ring.
“Daisy. Finally.”
“Hey, Chris. Sorry I hung up on you earlier, but I really don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
“Fine.” His heavy exhale was audible. “Just don’t turn off your phone like that. What if you needed to call for help?”
“Then I’d turn it back on?”
She was pretty sure that was a growl she heard. “What if I needed to reach you urgently?”
“Okay, Chris. I promise I won’t turn it off because I’m in a snit.”
“Thank you.” He paused for a few seconds. “You okay?”
Daisy felt a small surge of irritation. It felt like he was always asking her that. “Yes. I assaulted Max and took a shower, so I feel much better.”
“Good.” There was another un-Chris-like hesitation. “Can I do anything for the training tomorrow? Maybe pick up some things on my way to your house?”
“Since you’re the one doing the training, I think your contribution is big enough without supplying snacks.”
“Okay.” This time, the silence stretched until she checked to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. “Do you need anything?”
“Some strong sedatives, if you don’t stop treating me like your invalid aunt.” She immediately felt bad about her sharpness. “No, Chris. I’m stocked like a good prepper. Dad could stay away for another six months, and I’d still have enough to eat.” She’d be out of chocolate long before then, though, and that could lead to severe crankiness.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Bye.” The word was more of a sigh. This Chris was nowhere near as fun to talk to as her friend used to be before some alien performed a personality transplant on him.
* * *
“Gabe,” Rob called over the construction noise. “Got a minute?”
Gabe Little scowled. “No. Not after your deputy wasted my entire morning.”
Raising his eyebrows, Rob waited.
“Chris Jennings called me and told me Daisy needed me at home.” His frown deepened with each word. “Thought she was in trouble or something. When I drove all the way home, she was fine. Said she had no idea why Jennings dragged me to Simpson. I ended up turning around and driving right back to Connor Springs. What a waste of time.”
“Hmm…” Rob was beginning to realize just how attached Chris was. He should’ve known something was up when Jennings bought a new grappling dummy for the department, when their “old” one had barely been used a year. “Sorry you were inconvenienced, but
I have to admit that I’m concerned about Daisy, as well.”
“What?” His surly expression faded, and concern seeped into his tone. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Has she shown any signs of improvement since her mother…passed? Any attempts at leaving the house?”
The final traces of annoyance disappeared as Gabe deflated, sitting heavily on a concrete block. “Not really. She had a therapist for a while, but that didn’t…well, it didn’t pan out.”
“Why not?”
Guilt flashed over Gabe’s expression, and the defensive scowl returned. “What’s this all about, Sheriff?”
“Like I told you,” Rob said evenly, allowing sympathy to color his voice, “I’m concerned. What would happen if there was a structure fire? Or if she was injured or ill, and no one could get to her?”
Holding his hands palms-up in a gesture of helpless anger, Gabe demanded, “You think I don’t ask myself those questions every day? You think I don’t worry about her in that house?”
“I know you do,” Rob said soothingly. “I’m a father, too. I understand about worrying all the time. I’m not here to add to your problems. I’m here to offer to help—as much as I’m able, at least.”
Gabe slumped, and Rob knew he had him. “Thanks, Sheriff. Sorry. It’s just…hard.”
“I know.” Reaching out, Rob clasped the other man’s curled shoulder. “If something were to happen, is there any way I could reach her? Is there a key?”
“No.” Gabe didn’t raise his gaze. “There are too many locks on that inside door. My key chain would look like a janitor’s.”
Holding back a frustrated scowl, Rob asked, “Is there any other way into the house, any way to get to Daisy if she needed help?”
Gabe started to shake his head but then stopped, his expression brightening. “Yeah, there is. I’d almost forgotten about that.”
Rob listened intently, not allowing his satisfaction to show.
* * *
Her shaky hands had returned for the stupidest reason.
“Yes?” she said into the intercom mic, glad she could at least keep her voice steady.
