Page 80 of In Safe Hands
“There’s a group of”—she counted quickly in her head—“eight of us. We work out in my home gym a couple of times a week.” Shaking her head in a futile attempt to clear it, she shifted her weight again. Her legs were so tired that they were starting to feel rubbery. “I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with the fire?”
“Just trying to get all of our facts straight,” Chief Early nonanswered. “Did you see anyone before you saw the fire?”
“No.” She mentally reprimanded herself for not paying more attention, instead of freaking out about the unlocked door. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” The chief smiled at her again. “Thanks to you, we were able to save most of the house, so it was a good night.”
Although she returned his smile, the very last of her adrenaline was leaving her, and she was starting to sway. “Is that everything you needed?”
The two men exchanged another one of their cryptic glances, and she resisted rolling her eyes.
“That should do it.” The fire chief was the one who answered. “We’ll stop by or call if we think of anything else.”
“Okay.” When they didn’t move, she turned and walked to the door, hoping they’d follow. They did, although they stayed several steps behind, talking in low voices that she couldn’t overhear. “Do you think this is the work of the arsonist?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Coughlin’s eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl. “How did you know about the arsons? Did Jennings tell you?”
“Just because I’m stuck in here,” she said with attempted ease, trying to pretend that her stomach wasn’t jumping around like crazy at his menacing look, “doesn’t mean I’m not still in Simpson. Everyone gossips here, except for Chris. He never shares the details of his cases with me.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but he’d only told her about the minor, harmless calls, like the missing tire cover, and he never mentioned anyone’s name. Besides, he wasn’t the one who’d brought up the arson cases. The information had flowed to him, but not from him.
Early gave a wry grimace when she mentioned the gossiping, but the sheriff returned his expression to his typical emotionless mask, which gave Daisy the impression that he didn’t believe her. Mentally apologizing to Chris for even bringing up the arsons, she opened the door, hoping to encourage the two men to leave before she said anything else that caused more trouble.
“Next time something happens”—the sheriff stepped close to her—too close—“call 9-1-1. That system is in place for a reason.”
“I’m hoping this is the last time I’ll need emergency services,” she said, intentionally not agreeing to his command. “At least for a while.”
“We hope so, too,” the fire chief said. “Be safe, Daisy.”
“Thank you.”
After a final hard glance, Coughlin followed the other man out. Closing the door behind them, Daisy fought the urge to throw every last lock and then hide under her bed. Before she could follow the impulse, though, her cell chirped. When she dug the phone out of her pocket, she saw it was a text from Chris.
OK if I stay over tonight?
Without hesitating, she sent back a yes. It would be a relief to have his company, even if they didn’t end up spooning on the couch again. The memory of waking up with him pressed to her back and his arm over her waist made her flush with heat. The phone chirped again.
Need to talk to Rob, then I’ll knock.
Her thumbs flew over the screen, and she sent the text without thinking about it too hard. If she allowed herself to dissect everything she sent to him, each text would take an hour of agonizing.
Great. I’ll be waiting.
* * *
It wasn’t very long before Chris knocked, but she’d still managed to doze off while she waited, sitting on the tile with her back against the door. Her body wasn’t very cooperative, and it took her a few tries before she could scramble to her feet and reach the unlock button.
Turning the doorknob, she pulled it toward her as she backed against the wall, letting the position of her body and the door block any sight of the outside world. She wasn’t going to start backsliding and locking the door again, but her tired brain had had enough shocks for the night…or day or whatever. She yawned so widely that her jaw cracked.
The knob was pulled gently from her grip as Chris stuck his head around the door. “You all right back here?”
Since she was in the middle of another yawn and couldn’t talk, she just nodded, making him laugh.
“Okay, sleepyhead.” He pushed the door closed and took her hand, tugging her away from her leaning position. “It’s bedtime.” When she resisted, not wanting to leave the support of the wall behind her, he grabbed her other hand and pulled. “C’mon. You look ready to fall over.”
That’s how she felt, too. With a groan that made him laugh again, Daisy peeled herself off the wall and allowed him to tow her toward the stairs.
“What’d the sheriff have to say?” she asked through yet another yawn.
“More of the same.” The amusement slipped from his expression as grimness replaced it.
