by Katie Ruggle
Trying to rein in her runaway imagination, she returned to the kitchen. The house was an inanimate building, she reminded herself firmly. Any emotions she felt from it came from her own mind. She leaned against the counter, suddenly and completely exhausted as the adrenaline started to leave her system. The sound hadn’t been an intruder. It could’ve come from outside or from her stressed, overtired brain. As soon as that thought occurred to her, she pushed it away, not willing to accept that she was hearing sounds that weren’t there.
Despite the limp-noodle state of her limbs, she knew sleep would be elusive. Instead of doing her planned run, she headed for the bathroom and skipped straight to the post-workout shower. The water was almost painfully hot as it needled her scalp. Tilting her head back, Daisy closed her eyes and tried to let all the residual fear run down the drain.
* * *
After he heard the shower start, Rob slipped out of his hiding spot in the pantry. He was completely silent as he made his way up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Chapter 9
“So…?”
“So…?” Daisy echoed absently as she examined her phone. Something was bugging her about it, but she couldn’t figure out what. It just seemed off. It was definitely her phone—all her new contacts were still in there, plus her apps and email—but it just didn’t feel right.
“Hey.” A single-serve packet of coffee grounds bounced harmlessly off her head, making her look up from her phone to see Chris watching her curiously. “Pay attention to me. It’s too early to be texting.”
Although she shot him a mock-scowl, she placed her not-right phone on the kitchen counter next to her. “I’m not texting. And most people would think six is too early for friendly visits, too.”
Chris just waved that off. He’d come to her house right from work. Even if he hadn’t mentioned it, she would’ve known from the bouncy energy he always radiated immediately after a shift. “How’d last night go?”
“Great.” She smiled at the memory of the evening. “Fun.”
He grinned broadly. “Good. Did you figure out anything about the case?”
“Nothing definite. We mostly talked about the fires.”
“Fires?”
“The arsons—the ones around town as well as the forest fires. Ellie’s dad thinks they’re related to Willard Gray’s murder.”
“Related how?” All teasing was gone from his expression as he shifted into professional mode.
“We’re not sure. Ellie’s dad only said, ‘the fires,’ and then he took off.”
“Hmm.”
Daisy felt a smile starting. That hum was so Chris. “You’re going to look into that more, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
“And you’re going to tell me what you find out?” She wasn’t honestly that hopeful, but she figured she’d give it a shot.
“No.”
Accepting that with a shrug, she was surprised when Chris frowned deeply.
“What?”
“I talked to Rob about yesterday morning.”
“Yeah?” Daisy gave him her full attention.
“Yeah.” Now he wasn’t just serious—he looked positively grim.
“What’d he say about the boot prints?”
Chris started to pace the width of the kitchen. “It was…weird. I figured he’d say he’d been hurrying through the investigation, since he didn’t really believe anyone had been there, so he was trying to pacify you in the quickest way possible.”
“But…” His upheld hand stopped her.
“He shut me down. Wouldn’t discuss it. Point-blank refused to send the fingerprint to the BCA for analysis. He turned it around on me.”
“On you? How?”
“Said I wasn’t thinking clearly when it came to you. He implied that you were… I don’t know, unbalanced or attention-seeking or something.”
At Daisy’s flinch, he took a step closer to her and then stopped, thrusting his hand through his hair and making it stick up even more wildly than normal.
“You know I don’t think that. I know you, Dais. None of the things he was saying were even close to reality, which is what made it so…”
“Weird?” she said softly.
He looked tired. “Weird.”
“So what’s the next step?”
Chris resumed his pacing. “Rob pretty much banned me from having anything else to do with that empty house or any future calls from you.”
Sucking in a harsh breath as the implication hit her, Daisy whispered, “So you can’t visit anymore?”
“No!” He’d been pacing away from her, but he whirled around to face her. “Of course not! Even if he could control who I see in my personal life, I wouldn’t listen to him.”
Her shoulders sagged as the panic drained out of her. The thought of losing Chris had almost brought her to her knees.
Chris was still talking. “If you see that kid again, though, don’t call Dispatch. Call me—I don’t care what time it is—and I’ll have one of the other deputies come out and do a thorough investigation.”
“Why is the sheriff so anti-me? Did he say anything?”
“Not about that.” His face was set in frustrated lines. “I talked to Libby last night, and Rob didn’t mention to her why he wanted a heads-up if you called. She said he’s done that with a couple of other people, but only the real”—his gaze shifted off to the side for a moment, like he was searching for a word with a PG-rating—“dirtbags.”
Squishing up her face, Daisy said, “Well, that makes me feel good.”
“Sorry, Dais.” He moved so he was standing in front of her. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this. It makes me wonder…”
“Wonder?” If he didn’t finish his sentence, she’d die of curiosity.
To her relief, he continued, “If he thinks that Gray’s murderer is with the department.”
Her eyes widened. “The sheriff suspects the killer is a deputy?”
“Possibly. That would explain why Rob’s being so secretive, withholding information from us, like about Baxter Price. After the whole thing with Macavoy’s early morning ‘junk pickup,’ it made me start wondering.”
The thought that she might have witnessed the murderer in action punched her in the stomach. “Do you think Macavoy…?”
“He couldn’t have killed Willard Gray, because he hasn’t been here long enough, but he’s involved somehow. I can’t even talk to him about it, though, since he quit.”
“He quit?”
“Yeah.” Chris looked frustrated. “Called Dispatch, said he was quitting, and then he just left. He won’t even answer his phone—at least not when I’m calling him. I wanted to talk to him about this whole thing, plus now we’re shorthanded. We’re running from call to call like a bunch of headless chickens.”
“But…he can’t just leave!” Daisy sputtered. “He put a body—well, a possible body—in a squad car. Shouldn’t the sheriff have told him not to leave town or something?”
Amusement lightened Chris’s expression for a moment. “Cops don’t actually say that in real life, you know. Besides, Rob is certain that it was junk, not a dead body, being put in the squad. If Rob suspects one of us, it isn’t Macavoy.”
Daisy hummed, not liking that Macavoy could skip town so easily. Rob might think his former deputy was just hauling junk, but the sheriff hadn’t seen it like Daisy had, hadn’t watched the weight and movement of the corpse-like bundle.
She was still trying to absorb the possibility that a cop might have killed Willard Gray. Whether it was Macavoy or some other deputy, the idea was just wrong. The good guys should be just that—good. Not decapitating, cold-blooded murderers. Some of the deputies sounded better than others, but it was terrifying to consider that the very guy they were hunting could be the one who was supposed to provide Chris
with backup on a dangerous domestic call. “Maybe the sheriff doesn’t think it’s someone in the department. Could he be trying to keep the information from some of the looser-lipped deputies so that it doesn’t leak?”
“Like Lawrence?” Chris said thoughtfully. “Could be, but we already only give him information on a need-to-know basis. After the last time his brain took a vacation and he spilled confidential info to Lou, Rob’s had him on a tight leash.”
“It could’ve made him paranoid about another leak—the sheriff, I mean.” As the theory took shape in her mind, she let the words leave her mouth unfiltered. It could be completely bogus, but Daisy realized she was slightly desperate to move away from the idea that a deputy was responsible for Gray’s death. “Or he suspects someone in the outer circle.”
“Outer circle?”
“Medical, Fire, Search and Rescue,” she clarified. “From what the training group said, it’s a complete gossip-fest. Is that true with the sheriff’s department, too? I mean, would deputies talk to the EMTs or firefighters about details on the case and not think they were doing something wrong?”
“Could be.” His eyebrows pulled together as he thought. “I try to keep my mouth shut around anyone who isn’t a cop—and not assigned to the case I’m talking about—but I know that some of the guys are a little more casual about it.”
“That’s so spooky.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle. “One of the good guys might be a killer.”
Chris didn’t respond beyond a slight tip of his head, but his mouth turned down at the corners.
As she studied him—her handsome, wonderful, loveable Chris—she mirrored his frown. She hated this uncertainty, not knowing whom they could trust. “Be careful out there.”
Meeting her gaze, he held it for several beats. “Always.”
* * *
Only an hour had passed after Chris left when there was a knock on the door. It was actually more of a series of heavy thuds, rather than an actual knocking sound, and she pressed the intercom button tentatively.
“Hello?”
“Daisy, let me in.”
Her eyes widening with surprise, she pushed the unlock button. When she opened the inner door, her dad came inside, his forearms and wrists strapped with grocery bag handles. He was juggling a couple of cardboard boxes, as well, and she hurried to grab one from him. Daisy grunted at the unexpected weight.
Setting it on the floor by her feet so she could secure the interior door locks, she eyed the box, but the flaps had been folded over so it was impossible to see what was inside. As soon as the last chain was in place, she scooped up the mystery package and followed her dad into the kitchen.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, putting the box on the counter so she could help put away the groceries. “You got eggs! Thank you. I’ve been wanting to make some brownies.”
Bent over as he placed something in the vegetable-crisper drawer, he responded, “Figured you’d gotten low, so I stopped by the Connor Springs grocery store before heading home.”
“Oh, good.” As she reached over him to put away the milk, she craned her neck to see what vegetables he’d gotten. “Their produce is always so much better than the stuff from Melcher’s.”
He made a sound of agreement.
“Watch your head when you stand,” she warned as she opened the freezer door. “Was chicken on sale? I think you bought out the store.”
“No.” He carefully retreated, ducking his head until he could straighten without braining himself. “I just know you like it, so…” He shrugged, not meeting her eyes.
“I do. Thank you.” She finished stacking the packages in the freezer. Picking up a pound of ground beef, she hesitated and then put it in the fridge, instead. “I’ll use that to make your favorite meatloaf, as long as you picked up some jalapeños?” She glanced down, loving how the fruit and veggie drawers were full of colorful things. Frozen vegetables and canned fruit were fine, but nothing like fresh ones.
“No.” Her dad gathered the empty bags, still avoiding eye contact. “I mean, I did get jalapeños, but I won’t be here for dinner tonight.”
“Hot date?” Although she felt mild disappointment, it was nothing like she would’ve felt even a week ago. She still missed her dad, but she’d been having plenty of company, and that seemed to have filled the usual void of loneliness.
He shook his head. “New job.”
“Oh.” That was quick. Typically, he stayed several days or even a week before heading off to the site of a new project. “Another one in Connor Springs?”
“This one is south of Parker. Huge new house with ground-source heating and cooling, PV and passive solar, wind—pretty much every alternative-energy system they could think of, except for conservation. Ten thousand square feet, including a turret. Rich people are nuts.”
Her smile was slightly forced. “It’s going to be a long one, then, huh?”
He shot her a sharp look. “Don’t be laying a guilt trip on me for working.”
“I’m not.” She focused on smoothing a bag of Tropical Skittles. He’d gotten all her favorites. “I’m not. I’ll miss you, but I made some new friends.”
“Yeah? That’s good.” His expression softened slightly, although it remained wary. He nodded toward the box she’d carried inside and its slightly bigger mate. “Come see what else I found for you.”
She’d forgotten about the mystery boxes, and she made an excited sound that was embarrassingly close to a squeal. She loved presents. Unfolding the flaps on the box she’d left on the counter, she sucked in a breath.
“Oh, Dad! These are awesome!” Daisy carefully pulled out one of the vintage children’s books that filled the box. “Where’d you find these?”
“The Connor Springs library had one of those fundraising sales, where people can donate books.” She nodded, still focused on the box’s contents. From her first quick peek, the books looked to be in great condition. Daisy couldn’t wait to list them online. “That box was five bucks. I was going to text you a picture to see if you’d be interested, but I wanted to surprise you.”
“These are perfect—thank you!”
“There’s another box, too.”
“Oh!” Daisy quickly returned the books she’d pulled out of the box and headed for the second one. “I totally forgot about Box Number Two.” She used her game-show announcer voice, but her dad just looked confused.
Shrugging off her failed joke, she opened the flaps on the second box. Peering inside, she had to fight the urge to jump back in horror. “Oh…wow.” Inside was the creepiest pair of dolls she’d ever seen.
“Those were at the junk store on Evergreen Street. They looked really old, so I figured you might be able to get lots of money for them.” He sounded so proud that Daisy stifled the need to reclose the flaps and send the box with Gabe to Parker. If they were in another town, they couldn’t kill her in her sleep.
The one with the wonky eye was staring at her as if it were plotting her murder. Daisy already had possible dead-body shuffling going on outside her bedroom window. She didn’t need a pair of hell dolls adding to her nightmares. Her dad looked so pleased with himself, though, that she couldn’t crush him.
“These are…great, Dad. I’ll have to do some research so I know what I’m selling. Dolls are new to me.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Even as a little girl, you’d pick a stuffed animal over a doll every time.”
She smiled back, quickly folding the flaps closed to break the dolls’ unwavering stares. “Thank you again, Dad. That was really thoughtful of you.”
Brushing off her thanks uncomfortably, he turned toward the garbage can. “I’d better head out. I’ll take out the trash on my way.” Pulling a handful of mail from his coat pocket, he laid it on the counter. “I stopped by the post office, too.”
“Thanks.” Her stomach twist
ed a little. “Want me to make you a sandwich for the road?”
“No, I’ll just stop somewhere. Coffee’d be good, though.”
Daisy didn’t hesitate to move toward the brewer. It was a relief to have something to do so she didn’t have to stand there and watch him scramble to leave as fast as possible. She focused on the drip, drip of the brewing coffee until it gurgled to a stop. After she transferred it to a travel mug, she saw he was by the door, ready to go.
Her smile was forced, but it didn’t matter, since he was careful not to make eye contact with her.
“Travel safe,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Thanks again for the books and the dolls.” Daisy was proud at how the word “dolls” came out with barely a pause. Maybe Chris would take them with him next time he stopped by to visit. They could ride shotgun in the squad and terrify criminals into surrendering.
“Bye, Daisy.”
She carefully fastened the locks, one by one, until she was secure again. Alone, but secure.
* * *
She could hear her mom sobbing, pleading, but Daisy couldn’t see her face. Everything was blurry except for the gun in his black-gloved hand. Daisy shook so hard that her tremors rattled the snack-cake display she was hiding behind. Although she desperately tried to be quiet, the scream built up inside of her, pressing against her lungs until she had to let it out or she would suffocate. The shrill sound escaped, filling her ears and drowning out everything—her mother’s cries, the stranger’s threats, the sirens outside. Where was Chris? Chris always came at this point. He wasn’t there, though. No one was there. The gun flashed, and Daisy knew her mom was gone. Grief blended with fear, and her scream grew louder and louder until the gun pointed straight at Daisy’s face.
She jerked awake with a gasp. As soon as she realized it had been a dream, she scooted to the edge of the bed. The sheets were damp from sweat, and they clung to her skin, slowing her progress.
