Page 44 of In Safe Hands
“But Rory said all the other fires have been small buildings,” Ellie said.
Lou winced. “My cabin wasn’t very big.”
“‘Shack-like’ was the word someone used to describe it,” Rory said.
“Hey! Watch the cabin smack-talk, bunker dweller.” Despite her words, Lou was laughing. “Wait…did that ‘someone’ happen to be Callum?”
Rory’s phone rang, saving her from having to answer Lou.
“Hi.” Just in the short time Daisy had known her, she’d noticed how much Rory’s voice softened when she was talking to Ian. “You’re at Letty’s? She okay? Well, as okay as she gets?” Daisy watched Rory’s face with interest. Her expression was open and happy—very unlike the Rory Daisy was familiar with. “Good. Who took over my dog-tending duties?” She laughed. “Poor guy. Is my favorite paramedic there this time?”
Her laughter faded into a teasing smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I said it. Listen, we have a question for you.” She broke off as if Ian had interrupted her. “Yep, I’m still at Daisy’s. No, no sausage biscuits this time. The meatballs and wontons were just as good, though.” Her grin widened, and Daisy found herself smiling as well. Rory’s happiness was contagious. “Can’t. We ate them all. Can I ask my question now? Thanks. How long have the arsons been going on?” At Ian’s response, her expression grew serious. “That often? And all small structures, right? Any chance Lou’s cabin could’ve been considered a small structure?”
There was a long pause as Rory listened intently, her frown deepening. “Do you know anything about those accelerants Derek found in the forest service cabin? Okay. Let me know what the chief says. See you tomorrow morning.” Rory tipped her head away from the others, as if trying to hide her returning smile. “No, I don’t think I’ll be hungry for breakfast after eating all of these delicious snacks of Daisy’s.” Her laugh was soft. “Fine. See you then. Be safe.”
By the time she’d ended the call, her poker face was back in place. “Ian said these fires have been happening about every month or two for over a year. He’ll look up when the first report was when he gets back to the station. Once Chief Early arrives tomorrow morning, Ian will talk to him about whether Lou’s house could’ve been the work of the arsonist, rather than her stalker, and Ian will check on what they found out about the accelerants. In return for the information, Ian requested that I bring home a doggie bag of snacks for him.”
Lou winced. “So good to know it could’ve been two homicidal crazy people gunning for me.”
“At least one’s dead now,” Rory said, making Daisy cover her eyes and groan. “What?”
Luckily, Lou just laughed. “Thanks, Rory. That does help.”
After another hour of brainstorming possible links between the arsons and Willard Gray’s murder, they called it a night.
“Should we meet again in a couple of days?” Lou asked as the group headed for the front doors. “We made so much progress—and you three don’t shut down my wild theories like Callum does.”
As the others agreed enthusiastically to a second meeting and exchanged phone numbers, Daisy was positively giddy with excitement. Once everyone had exited and silence returned to her world, Daisy slid down to sit with her back against the door and pulled out her phone. Her thumb automatically found the tiny dent in the back where it had connected with the granite counter a few months back. Smiling, she scrolled through her contact list. So what if there might have been a dead-body removal across the street or that the sheriff had a strange obsession with making her think she was delusional? He was just one man, and her group of friends had expanded to the point that everyone couldn’t fit on the screen anymore. The sight of the lengthened list of names made her…not content, but closer to it than she’d been since her mom’s murder.
* * *
The crawl space access panel was right where Gabe Little had said it would be. Finally, something was going right.
Rob silently belly-crawled farther under the porch, his penlight gripped between his teeth. With his right hand, he reached down and worked a Phillips-head screwdriver out of the side pocket of his BDUs. The screws holding the access panel in place were corroded and rusty, and Rob gave a soundless huff of aggravation as he worked the first one loose.
It had been a long time since he’d done an unauthorized entry. If Daisy Little had been compliant, he wouldn’t have to be lying in who-knows-what under a porch at two in the morning, fighting with decades-old hardware. Instead, he could be home with his sleeping son. Rob couldn’t have her making Chris suspicious, though. The department was already down a deputy. They couldn’t afford to lose another.
By the time he’d worked out the final screw, Rob was sweating and more than a little annoyed. He held his temper and carefully lifted the access panel away from the foundation. His tiny flashlight wasn’t much help in cutting the thick darkness of the crawl space, but now wasn’t the time to get hesitant. Unpleasant as it was, this had to be done.
Rob slid headfirst through the opening.
* * *
Daisy woke with a start.
Her heart was pounding, but she hadn’t had a nightmare—that she could remember, at least. Lying perfectly still, staring through the darkness, Daisy listened. It was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it was almost eerie. Her heart rate took off at a gallop again, and she slid out of bed. Glancing at the glowing clock numbers, she sighed. She hadn’t even been asleep for an hour. Tomorrow was going to be painful.
Her bare feet were silent as she padded toward the window, listening for a repeat of whatever sound had woken her. There was nothing, though. Even the wind had taken a short, rare hiatus. It was strange not hearing the howling gusts battering at the house. Daisy had become so accustomed to that sound that the absence of it made her feel like the world was holding its breath.
With one knee on the window seat, she leaned forward and looked outside. Fog spread over the neighborhood, hiding all but the most basic shapes of the houses across the street. With a shiver, she moved away from the window. Trying to guess what might be out there, hiding in the mist, would only make her nerves worse.
She stood in the middle of her bedroom. If she tried to go back to bed, she’d just lie awake and jump at every faint sound. There’d be no way she could concentrate on a book, either, so reading was out. A run it was, then.
After turning on her bedside lamp, she moved over to her dresser and picked out a sports bra and some shorts. As she started pulling the oversized sleep shirt over her head, a muffled thump from downstairs made her freeze.
The fabric was still bunched around her face, blinding her, and she yanked it back into place. If she was going to be investigating mysterious noises, she wasn’t about to do it almost naked.
I imagined it, she tried to reassure her frantic brain. No one is downstairs. The windows are sealed shut, and the door has a bazillion locks on it. There’s no way someone could be downstairs. If someone’s here, then that means this house isn’t safe, and that means… The floor tilted, and she swayed as her room began to gray around the edges.
