In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue Book 4)

by Katie Ruggle

  Natalie gave a small laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry again. Your gorgeous ceramic tile floors distracted me. I just finished showing the house right across the street to a couple, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about the neighborhood and…well, some other things.”

  The mention of the place Daisy had mentally been referring to as—in a rather morbid and not very creative way—the dead-body house brought all her attention to the realtor. Her near-mental breakdown was temporarily forgotten as curiosity took precedence.

  “Did you want to come inside?” Daisy asked, gesturing toward the archway into the kitchen.

  “Oh, I’d love to.” Natalie was already heading into the kitchen. Giving the unlocked inner door a single glance, Daisy hurried after her guest.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. Although she was dying to know about the house across the street, she figured she should be polite. The realtor’s questions would probably just be the standard and boring ones, like whether there were many children in the area or if anyone threw loud parties late at night. Daisy wondered if she should let Natalie know about Corbin and his destructive tendencies.

  “No, thank you. I’m not really a coffee drinker.” Natalie was closely examining the cupboard doors. “Did you recently remodel?”

  “Yes.” Since Daisy had a feeling that a conversation about home renovations could go on for hours with Natalie, she prompted, “You mentioned you had some questions about the neighborhood?”

  “Oh, yes.” Turning away from studying the countertops, she gave Daisy a wide smile. Despite the realtor’s attempt at pretending to be at ease, she seemed nervous, which was strange. “As I mentioned, I showed the house to a young couple this morning. Very nice pair. They’d been looking in Connor Springs, but places in this area are a bit closer to their price range.”

  Daisy nodded, still trying to figure out what was making Natalie so tense.

  “Do you know why the owners are selling?”

  “They moved to Florida about eight months ago,” Daisy said. “I wasn’t…um, close with them, but I heard they were sick of the cold and snow. They were travel agents, so they switched from arranging ski vacations to beach trips. There were two kids, a boy and a girl, about ten or twelve? I’m not really good at guessing kids’ ages.” She didn’t mention that it was especially difficult when you only had an oblique view of the children from an upstairs window. When they’d moved, Daisy hadn’t been too sad, since the parents hadn’t provided much entertainment, and the kids had liked to knock on her door and run away.

  “Did anything…well, unusual happen there?”

  Cocking her head to the side, Daisy repeated, “Unusual?”

  “The husband noticed something on the ceiling of the living room.” The realtor shifted her gaze from Daisy to the sink. “Very nice fixtures, dear.”

  “Um…thank you.” This was an odd conversation. “What was on the ceiling?”

  “Well, it was just a few dark-colored spots, and I didn’t think anything of it. He became rather interested, since he was determined that it was…well, blood. He mentioned being an avid hunter, and said that he knew what dried blood looked like. Since it was such a small amount, just a few drops, I didn’t think it was worth focusing on, even if he was right about it being blood.”

  Natalie paused, her eyes narrowing on Daisy’s face. Daisy wasn’t sure if the realtor was checking to see if she believed her story, or looking for signs of murderous guilt. Either way, Daisy kept her expression blank, and Natalie resumed her story.

  “I pointed out the lovely stone fireplace and the two-year-old windows, but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was checking the floor and the walls—looking for more blood. He thought he found it, just a light pink swipe on one wall and a few traces on the floor. It didn’t look like anything to get excited about to me. He kept asking what had happened, if someone had been seriously injured in that room, and if that’s why the owners were selling. I told him it had been a relocation, but he’d already made up his mind that it was…well.”

  Natalie paused, looking flustered. Not breathing, Daisy waited for her to continue.

  “He was talking as if it was a murder house or something equally ridiculous.”

  The word “murder” made the image of the deputy carrying the tarp-wrapped, body-shaped bundle resurface, and Daisy sucked in a breath.

  The realtor stared at her. “Do you know something?”

  “No.” It wasn’t really a lie, since Daisy didn’t know anything for sure. “You should tell the sheriff’s department, though, so they can check it out.”

  Natalie shook her head, her hands coming up as if to ward off any oncoming deputies. “Oh, no! I couldn’t bother them with something so…silly. It was such a tiny bit of blood—if it is blood—that I would look like a hysterical fool if I told them about this. The client just made me paranoid with his theories of bloodshed and murder, so I knocked on your door on a whim. Since nothing actually happened there…”

  “But what if something did?” Daisy asked. The tarp-covered form wouldn’t leave her head. “Better it be a false alarm than have them miss an actual crime scene.”

  Her eyes widening at the phrase “crime scene,” Natalie all but ran toward the door, skirting Daisy as if she were the killer. “It’s a small community. I can’t be known as the realtor who calls the cops on her clients. Please just forget what I told you. I’m sure it’s nothing. Have a nice day! You have a beautiful home!” As she spoke, Natalie grabbed for the door and yanked it open, diving through it as if escaping from a haunted house.

  “Wait!” Daisy lunged for the inner door, trying to close it before Natalie opened the exterior door. Her fingers fumbled, and the door banged against her hip before heading back to the wall. Self-preservation peeked out from her overwhelming panic and sent her to her knees so she would be closer to the ground in case she fainted. Her position made it harder to get out of the way of the door, though, and then it was too late. Natalie shoved open the exterior door.

  Daisy’s throat closed, making breathing impossible. The rectangle of light burned its image against her eyes. She could hear the strange noises coming from her throat, but she couldn’t get herself to stop making them. The usual darkness ringed her vision, shrinking her field of view until just a small circle of light remained.

  That small bit of illumination disappeared. It took Daisy a few seconds to realize that she hadn’t fainted. She blinked a few times, ignoring the burn as a droplet of sweat touched the corner of her eye. The light was gone because the door had closed. Just as that thought occurred to her, the sharp click of the exterior lock made the world return in a rush.

  Shuffling backward on her knees, she got her body out of the way of the inner door and slammed it shut. As soon as it latched, Daisy twisted around to sit on the floor, leaning against the blessedly closed entrance. Her head fell back, landing against the wood panel with a thump. She didn’t mind the slight ache, though. It actually felt kind of good, showing her that she was alive and she was conscious. She’d looked directly at the outside world, and she hadn’t fainted. Sure, she’d freaked out a bit, but she’d survived.

  Her fingers didn’t seem to be working as she fumbled her phone out of her hoodie pocket. Daisy felt like she was wearing thick gloves as she tried to bring up Chris’s contact and tap the screen to call him. On her first try, she dialed her dad’s number by mistake, and she quickly ended the call. Her second attempt was more successful, and she raised her phone to her ear with shaking hands.

  She laughed, too loudly, as the cell rang on Chris’s end. Her hands weren’t the only part of her that was shaking. In fact, her whole body was vibrating like she was a human earthquake.

  “What’s up, Dais?”

  His usual greeting had her laughing again. It wasn’t that she found anything funny, but she was just filled with such rel
ief and the residue of her earlier terror that she had to laugh. There must have been an edge of hysteria remaining in the sound, though, because Chris’s voice sharpened.

  “Daisy? You okay? Talk to me.”

  “I’m good.” Her teeth had started chattering, apparently feeling left out when all her other body parts were shuddering. “Both doors were open, Chris, and I was right there. It’s okay, though. I’m okay. I didn’t pass out.”

  “Dais, I can’t understand you.” There was a pause and some background noise before he returned. “I’m headed your way. Now tell me what’s going on. Talk slowly.”

  “No, you don’t have to come,” she protested, but then her jumbled brain cleared enough for her to change her mind. “Actually, it’s good you’ll be here. You can check out the blood.”

  “Blood?” The tension in Chris’s voice ratcheted up several notches. “What blood? Do you need Medical?”

  “No!” She needed to immediately become more coherent, or Chris would send Fire, Med, and every on-shift deputy to her house. “I’m fine. Really. Mentally and physically. Especially mentally. Chris, I didn’t faint!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite as comprehensible as she would’ve liked.

  “That’s…good, I guess.” It seemed to have helped a little, at least, since he was no longer threatening her with ambulances. “Whose blood are you talking about, then?”

  “A realtor stopped by my house.” Daisy was relieved that her words were coming in a more logical order. “She said there was blood on the ceiling of number 304.”

  In the following silence, Daisy could hear chatter from the squad radio in the background, although she couldn’t make out any of the words. “How much blood? And why didn’t she call it in? Hang on. I’m pulling up in front of your house now.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” She ended the call and scrambled to her feet, feeling like a newborn foal as she swayed, forcing herself to brace her weight against the door. By the time she’d managed to get upright, Chris’s fist hit the outer door. Daisy pushed the unlock button and, before she could think about it too hard, yanked open the interior door.

  “Daisy!” Chris’s eyes went wide as he reached for her, his movement distracting her from the opening behind him. Her knees, which had just recovered, went wobbly again, and she clutched the edge of the inner door for support. Even through the haze of panic, she could feel it was easier that time.

  The outside door closed just as Chris reached her, wrapping his arms around her in a half-hug, half-lift. Moving them both into the entry, he kicked the interior door closed behind them.

  “Shit! What were you thinking?” His hands moved over her, as if checking for injuries. The idea that he thought she could get hurt by getting a glimpse of the outdoors made her laugh. Her amusement didn’t seem to calm Chris, judging by the way his arms tightened around her.

  “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.”