Page 100 of In Safe Hands
Chris paced the kitchen as Daisy unenthusiastically checked out the options for dinner. Nothing looked appetizing, and she knew they were both too stressed and anxious to eat. Giving up on her search for food, she leaned back against the counter just as Chris’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, and his face went grim. “Rob,” he answered, sounding robotic. It felt like her heart stopped for a second before her heartbeat took off at a gallop.
“Now? Right. Okay.” Chris’s impassive expression had acquired a few cracks, and he didn’t look happy. “I’m already at Daisy’s, so just knock when you get here.”
Chris’s free hand tightened into a fist. When Daisy glanced at his balled fingers, he must have noticed, since he stretched them flat again. Monotone and even, his voice didn’t reveal his anger.
“See you.” He ended the call and returned his phone to his belt with restrained violence. Once he glanced at her, though, his face softened. “Guess I’ll be having that talk with Rob sooner than later.”
“What’s up?”
He grimaced. “Rob decided I was right about doing a search. He got a warrant for the house across the street this afternoon, but the gas leak put it on the back burner.”
She snorted at his unintentional—at least she hoped it was unintentional—pun.
His quick grin didn’t clarify whether he’d meant the play on words or not, and he soon sobered. “He’s coming over so we can search the house.”
“Tonight?” She glanced at the black window. “In the dark?”
“Rob said we’ll do the interior tonight and then come back tomorrow to search the yard.”
Her stomach was churning as every instinct she had screamed a warning. “Why is he willing to search the house his son lit on fire—and where Tyler might have killed someone?”
“He said we won’t be going into the room that burned. Safety reasons.” The last two words were heavy with sarcasm. “I can’t believe Rob knows how bad Tyler’s gotten. Covering up an arson, especially when it’s an unoccupied shed, is a much different thing than hiding a murder. Rob lives by a strict moral code. There’s no way his conscience would allow him to do that.”
She made a noncommittal sound. It seemed that she was the only one who believed the sheriff was capable of covering up his son’s murderous tendencies. “Will you talk to the sheriff about Tyler tonight instead of tomorrow morning, then?”
His cheerful expression flattened as he sighed. “I’m going to have to. There’s no way I can pretend that nothing’s wrong the entire time we’re searching.”
“Do you think he’ll fire you?” Daisy asked, hating that Chris could be punished for doing the right thing.
“Maybe.” His tone was even, but Daisy knew how much Chris wanted to stay with the sheriff’s department. “I have no idea how he’ll react. He’s all about the rules, except when it comes to his son. When I think of everything he’s done to cover up Tyler’s arsons…”
Daisy’s breath caught. “Do you think the sheriff is the one who—”
A heavy knock on the door stopped her words. She turned too fast and almost slipped, but Chris caught her arm, steadying her—physically, at least. “The sheriff’s here. How am I supposed to make small talk with him when we’ve just been accusing his son of murder?”
“I’ll go. You can stay here.” He gently nudged her toward the stairs as he gave a humorless laugh. “This is going to be fun, processing a crime scene while finding a tactful way to ask my boss if his kid could be a killer. If it’s not too late when we finish over there, I’ll come back tonight.”
“Come back, even if it is too late,” she told him, a warm flicker cutting through the chill that lingered in her chest from their previous conversation. “I’ll be up.”
His smile disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. His shoulders stiffened, and he headed for the door. Daisy heard the inner door click as it latched behind Chris, and she hurried back up the stairs to her bedroom window, turning off the lamp on her way.
Resting one knee on the window seat, she watched Chris and the sheriff cross the street as they headed toward the empty house. While Chris took a detour to the parked squad, collecting a black case from the cargo area, Coughlin fiddled with the lockbox hanging from the knob on the front door. He must have gotten the code from the owners or the realtor, since he unlocked the door and held it open for Chris.
The two men disappeared into the house, and Daisy sagged into the window seat, knowing it was going to be an endless few hours of staring at the blank outside of the house. The large front window lit, clearly showing the interior of the living room and the two men moving around inside. Room by room, they turned on the lights. When the owners had moved, they’d apparently taken all the blinds with them. The only window that stayed dark was the one that had shown flames the night before.
Once almost the entire house was illuminated, Chris and Rob returned to the living room. It was like watching a muted movie on a very small screen. Not for the first time, Daisy wished for binoculars. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the glass.
Even with the distance, it was easy to tell that the two men had worked together for a long time. They moved around the room in an efficient rhythm, and Daisy hoped that meant the search would be quick, and Chris would be back at her house even before she had a chance to get bored watching them collecting evidence.
There was a thump downstairs. Startled, Daisy jumped from the window seat. She strained to listen, but her heart pounding in her ears drowned out any other sounds. Creeping toward the bedroom door, she flinched as a floorboard creaked under her foot. She paused in the doorway, but she still didn’t hear anything.
Daisy started wondering if she was imagining this, like she’d imagined the intruder the other night. This sound had been loud and definitely inside the house, though. Taking a couple of steps out into the hall, she inhaled a deep, steadying breath—and froze.
She smelled smoke.
As her heart began to gallop, she reversed her steps, hurrying back into her bedroom toward the bedside table where her phone was charging. Chris was just across the street. She’d call him, and he’d be inside her house in seconds. Grabbing her cell, she pushed the main button, but nothing happened. Daisy stared at the black screen as she pushed the start button over and over. It was charged and only a few months old—why was her phone dead?
