Page 45 of In Safe Hands
“Stop!” she whispered fiercely. It wouldn’t help anything if she talked herself into a panic attack. She started to move toward her bedside table, where her phone sat, but then she paused. Who would she call? Chris, to tell him she might have heard a noise? The sheriff? Daisy actually snorted out loud, imagining Rob Coughlin’s reaction.
Before she called in reinforcements, she needed to make sure there really had been a noise, and that the noise had been caused by something dangerous. Tentatively, Daisy moved toward the hall, stopping in the doorway to try to peer through the darkness. All she saw were shadows.
Her heart tripped faster as she made her way to the stairs, carefully lowering her weight on each step so as not to make a noise. At the bottom, the doorway into the exercise room loomed. This was her sanctuary, her safe place. Tonight, though, it didn’t feel safe.
Forcing herself to move, she pushed open the exercise room door and stopped abruptly. The windowless space wasn’t shadowed and dim like the hall and the stairs—it was pure blackness.
Cursing herself for not grabbing the flashlight out of her nightstand, she reached along the wall and switched on the lights. The overheads blinded her for a few seconds, turning the exercise equipment into strange, overexposed shapes. Daisy blinked rapidly, twisting so she could see all corners, and the room came into focus. Her gaze darted around, searching for anything out of place—or anyone, full stop. Everything looked as it always did, but something made the room seem wrong. The equipment was too still, too quiet, and the light too bright, casting harsh shadows. She’d always loved this room, and its unexpected eeriness felt like the betrayal of a close friend.
Giving in to the growing urge to escape, she returned to the hall. As she checked each area, she continued turning on lights—the study, living room, dining room, and kitchen. With each flick of a switch, she held her breath until the new room came into focus and proved to be intruder-free. Every window was secured, and the front door locks were fully engaged. Despite all that, Daisy couldn’t relax. The house, this home in which she’d spent so many years, was suddenly a hostile stranger.
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.
