by Katie Ruggle
Just before she pushed the unlock button, though, she caught herself. What if it wasn’t her dad? She moved her finger to the intercom button instead.
“That you, Dad?”
“No.” The unfamiliar voice sent a shiver through her, a mix of relief that she’d checked and horror at the thought that she’d almost let a stranger into her sanctuary. As soon as her dad returned, she was going to ask him yet again to install a camera on the porch. Maybe this time he’d actually do it. “Sheriff Rob Coughlin.”
“Oh!” She’d met the Field County Sheriff once before, when she was sixteen. Most of that horrible day was blurry, thankfully, so she couldn’t bring his face to mind.
Her pause must have gone on too long, since he spoke again. “Deputy Jennings mentioned that you witnessed some suspicious activity early this morning. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Once again, her finger hovered over the unlock button, but the uneasiness in her gut wouldn’t let her push it. Instead, she spoke through the intercom as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I’m just going to call and confirm your identity with Dispatch.”
“That’s fine. Do you need the nonemergency number?”
“I have it, thanks.” Chris had made sure it was one of her few preset numbers, and she tapped the contact. A woman with a squeaky cartoon voice answered and confirmed that Sheriff Coughlin was following up on a suspicious-activity call at 304 Alpine Lane.
Thanking the dispatcher, Daisy ended the call and pushed the unlock button. Despite the reassurance that the sheriff really was who he said he was, her stomach still churned. It was one thing to be visited by Chris, since she thought of him as her friend first and a law enforcement officer second. The sheriff, though, was just a cop. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she unbolted the interior door.
The sheriff stepped inside, making her scurry out of his way. His size and serious expression made him even more intimidating, and Daisy was relieved to be able to look away as she relocked the door.
“Ms. Little,” he greeted when there were no more locks to secure and she had to turn around to face him.
“Sheriff.” She gave an awkward bob of her head. “Would you like something to drink?” Instantly mortified that he might think she was offering him something alcoholic, like in a flirty way, she hurried to clarify. “Water, I mean. Or coffee, although it might be kind of late for that, since I don’t have any decaf. Unless you’re on the night shift?”
“No, thank you.” She had to give him points for the way he didn’t even blink at her awkwardness.
“Okay. Did you want to come in and sit?” Daisy didn’t know the etiquette for a regular visitor, much less an official visit by a law enforcement officer who wasn’t Chris.
“Here is fine.” He looked around the kitchen. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Okay.” Hoping to put some space between her and Mr. Looming Cop, she moved to her usual spot, leaning back against the counter by the sink.
“Why don’t you tell me what you saw this morning,” he suggested in a way that made it more of a command than a request.
“Didn’t Chris—I mean, Deputy Jennings—fill you in?”
“He did, but I’d like to hear it from you directly. Sometimes third-person reporting can turn into a game of Telephone.” His smile was slight, but it still made Daisy relax a little.
“Okay. It was about three thirty this morning—”
“How did you know what time it was?”
“I looked at the clock in the training room before I went upstairs.”
The way he watched her intently, as if he was memorizing every word that came out of her mouth, was unnerving. “You weren’t sleeping?”
“No. Sometimes I have insomnia.” Despite her nerves, she had to smile. “Plus, I was dying to try out Max.”
“Max?”
“The department’s old grappling dummy that Chris brought me. Thank you for letting him do that, by the way.”
The sheriff’s eyes widened slightly, as if in surprise. “Of course,” he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than responding to her thanks.
Daisy eyed him curiously, which seemed to shake him out of his thoughts.
“So, you and Deputy Jennings are dating?”
She hadn’t expected the question, even though it seemed to be a common assumption, at least amongst that day’s visitors. “No. We’re friends, but it’s not…romantic.”
When the sheriff eyed her for a long moment, Daisy felt her cheeks get hot. She was annoyed at herself for blushing, since it probably made Coughlin think she was lying about not being involved with Chris. Shaking off both the embarrassment and the self-directed irritation, she told herself that, even if they had been dating, it wasn’t the sheriff’s business.
“When I was in my room,” she said, hoping to change the subject, “I saw a marked sheriff’s department SUV in front of 304, that house that’s for sale.”
“Did you see the squad number on the back?”
She shook her head, regretting her silly backward lunge once again. “No. It was parked with the front end facing the Storvicks’ house, and I…uh, wasn’t watching when he drove away.”
“He? So you saw the driver?”
“I did, but he had his coat hood up, so I couldn’t see his face.”
“You’re sure the person was male?”
“Yes. I had a weird angle, watching from the upstairs window, but I’m pretty sure he was tall and big.”
“Big?”
Under the sheriff’s unwavering gaze, Daisy found herself shifting from foot to foot. Once she realized she was fidgeting, she forced herself to stop. “His coat was too bulky to really see his shape, but he wasn’t a skinny guy.”
“What did you see him doing that made you think it wasn’t a routine call?”
“Well, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. And he was carrying something over his shoulder that was wrapped in a tarp.” She paused. It was one thing to sound crazy when she was talking to Chris or even to Lou, but telling the sheriff was a whole different matter. “The shape of it and the way it moved, especially when he dropped it into the back of the SUV, reminded me of a…um, a body.”
The sheriff stared at her silently. She couldn’t read his expression, and his silent regard made her nervous enough to drop her gaze to the tile floor.
“A body,” he finally repeated, his voice flat.
“Yes.” Dredging up her conviction, she met his eyes. “Especially when a boot fell out of the bottom of the tarp.”
Daisy desperately wished she could tell what he was thinking, but the sheriff had that impassive look down pat.
“What kind of boot?”
It was only after she sucked in air that she realized she’d been holding her breath during the silence. “It was black, or maybe just dark-colored.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture it lying on the packed snow that covered the road. “I’m pretty sure it was a man’s boot because of the size.”
“Can you show me where you were standing when you saw this?”
“Sure.” She pushed away from the counter and led the way through the living room and up the stairs. It made her neck prickle to have a near stranger following her, even if he was the sheriff. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder at him a few times. He looked around as they walked through the house, and his sharp gaze seemed to take in every detail.
When their silent train of two finally reached her bedroom, Coughlin moved around her and stepped toward the window. Daisy lowered her shoulders from where they’d been hunched around her ears, relieved to have his focus on something other than her.
She stood next to him, keeping as much distance as she could without seeming weird—or weirder. Despite his poker face, Daisy was pretty sure the sheriff thought she was an odd duck.
&n
bsp; “The squad was parked there,” she said, pointing at the spot on the street. “The deputy walked between the empty house and the Storvicks’, carrying the bod—uh, the large thing.”
“Deputy?” He turned his head to look at her. “I thought you couldn’t see the person’s face. Do you suspect anyone in particular?”
“No. I don’t know any of the deputies—just Chris. He showed me a picture, and the only ones I could really rule out were the two women and a couple of skinny guys. Chris said one was…um…” She tried to remember his name. “Deputy Lorenzo?”
“Deputy Lawrence?”
“That’s it!”
“Why do you think it’s a deputy, then?”
“Because of the SUV?” It seemed so obvious to her, but just his asking the question made her doubt her logic. “Chris said it could be anyone who had temporary access to a squad car, but it just made sense that someone driving a sheriff’s department vehicle would be a deputy. Oh, and Chris said the boot prints matched his.”
“Deputy Jennings is right about the squad.” The sheriff returned his gaze to the poorly lit scene in front of them. “If we start making assumptions, we could miss the truth just because it doesn’t fit into the too-small box we’ve created.”
She felt slightly chastised, although she did like the “we” he’d used. It made her feel included in the investigation. “I have a video of him on my phone. It’s not very clear, but you’re welcome to take a look at it.”
He looked at her for a long, silent moment before repeating in a flat voice, “A video.”
“Yes.” Relieved to have an excuse for avoiding his penetrating stare, she pulled out her cell and found the video footage. Holding her phone so the sheriff could see the screen, Daisy hit play. While he watched, she eyed his face nervously, looking for his reaction, but his expression was impassive.
As the clip ended, Daisy dropped the hand holding her phone to her side. “I know it’s dark, but maybe it could be enhanced and lightened with video-editing software?”
“Ms. Little.” Once again, he was focused on her, and it was an effort to hold his gaze. “How long has it been since you’ve left this house?”
Although she’d suspected that the questions would eventually come around to that, it still took her by surprise. Daisy took a step back, feeling as though he’d punched her in the chest. “Um…almost eight years.”
The assurance in his nod told her that he’d already known, which meant he’d just asked to make a point. A flame of annoyance flickered to life inside her.
“What does that have to do with anything?” She was proud of her strong, steady voice.
He didn’t answer her question but glanced toward the stack of books on her nightstand instead. “Do you read a lot of mysteries, Ms. Little?”
“Not especially.” Her self-assurance was fading, and the words came out weaker than she’d hoped. “I read lots of different types of books.”
“True crime?”
“They aren’t my favorite. What does this have to do with anything?”
Once again, he didn’t respond. “Do you watch your neighbors often?”
The earlier questions were just annoying, but that was a direct blow. Even as she tried to stop the blush, she felt her cheeks getting warm. “Yes.”
His chin tipped down. “Have you ever witnessed anything else…unusual?”
Daisy couldn’t stop her arms from crossing over her chest as she shook her head. The sheriff’s questions made her feel naked. “Just the stuff with Corbin Storvick.”
“Stuff?” he repeated, eyebrows raised.
“When he and his girlfriend have a fight, I let Chris know.” She’d never seen the harm in watching the world outside her window, but admitting that to the sheriff made it sound so…slimy. Daisy dropped her eyes to the window-seat cushion. “Just so he can keep an eye out for Corbin’s possible retaliation.”
Coughlin made a sound between a hum and a grunt that Daisy couldn’t translate. It might’ve been commendation or condemnation, and he made her too nervous for her to meet his eyes and try to read his expression to figure out which one it was.
“Do you receive any type of therapy for your”—he waved his hand at her room—“condition?”
Nibbling on her thumbnail, Daisy debated whether to refuse to answer him. Her emotional health didn’t seem to be any of the sheriff’s business. Although, she mentally conceded, if she’d witnessed a crime, her stability probably was an issue, especially if there was a trial. Would she be required to attend it?
At the thought, her throat closed, and her breath snagged in her throat. Logic loosened her lungs, though. There were so many other ways she could attend a trial—video conferencing, telephone, even a taped statement. They—whoever the mysterious “they” might be—wouldn’t force her to leave her home. Besides, Daisy didn’t think it was possible for her to exit without strong sedatives.
“Ms. Little?”
Despite her mental mutiny, Daisy folded under the heavy authority in his voice. “No. I used to have a therapist come to the house, but not anymore.”
“Why not?”
That was definitely none of his business, so she gave him the short answer. “She came from Connor Springs and had a hard time getting here during the winter. Since winter makes up about eleven months of the year…” She shrugged, her words trailing away when the sheriff didn’t look amused at her lame joke. “We tried phone sessions, but they didn’t seem to be helping.”
“I see.”
Daisy doubted it. “Did you have any other questions for me? About what I saw this morning, I mean.”
After eyeing her steadily for an unnerving length of time, the sheriff shook his head. “I’ll call if I need anything else. Have you told anyone besides Deputy Jennings about this?”
“No.” After the denial had escaped, she remembered that she’d shared the whole tale with Lou, who’d probably passed everything along to Callum. Daisy really didn’t want to once again be the focus of the sheriff’s reproving gaze, so she didn’t correct her unintentional lie. Instead, she silently led the way back downstairs. Having the sheriff at her back was not any easier the second time.
“Your house is set up to keep out intruders.” The sheriff’s voice made her jump before she looked over her shoulder at him. Since that hadn’t been a question, she waited for him to continue. “What happens if you need to evacuate?”
“Evacuate?” Even saying the word made her a little dizzy, but she tried to hide her overreaction. “Why would I need to do that?”
“Medical emergency, neighborhood gas leak or meth lab, fire…any number of reasons.”
She paused, a little taken aback by the way he was able to casually rattle off his list of possible catastrophes. The sheriff apparently wasn’t a glass-half-full kind of guy. If she had to guess, Daisy would say that Coughlin was more of a look-for-the-red-dot-from-the-sniper-rifle-on-the-half-empty-glass sort.
“Our first aid kit handles the minor medical stuff. If there was something major, I suppose I’d either be preoccupied by impending death or unconscious, so leaving the house wouldn’t be a big deal.” It felt like a lie on her tongue. Daisy couldn’t imagine not going full-out ballistic if someone tried to force her through the door, almost dead or not. “I’d probably take my chances that you guys”—she gestured toward his badge—“and the fire department could handle the gas leak or, um, meth lab. And I have fire extinguishers all over, just in case.”
He made another one of his short humming sounds, but he didn’t comment on her answer, even though it sounded weak, even to her own ears. Daisy was glad he dropped the subject. She didn’t need to hear about all the potential dangers that could befall her, since she had plenty of demons to deal with already.
“When’s your dad getting back?”
That was a good question, since Gabe
should’ve arrived already. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and saw she’d missed a text. After she pulled up the message, Daisy made a face. “Not tonight, apparently. The job is going to take an extra couple of days.”
Disappointment spread through her. Not only had she been looking forward to seeing her father, but she had a bunch of out-of-the-house errands she was going to ask him to do. Daisy hated asking Chris. It made her feel so…needy.
The sheriff’s gaze seemed to penetrate right into her brain and pick out her thoughts. “Will you be okay for that long? Do you need anything?”
If she wasn’t going to ask Chris for help, she definitely wasn’t about to ask his austere boss. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
Although he looked unconvinced, he just offered her his card. “Call me if you see anything else.”
“Okay,” she said, although his request had been extremely vague. By “anything else,” did he mean things related to a dead body, or did he want her to call every time Corbin Storvick had a tantrum? Daisy shook off her brief confusion when she realized that the sheriff was waiting for her to unlock the interior door.
“Good night, Ms. Little. I hope you’re able to get some sleep tonight.”
“’Night, Sheriff.” As she closed the door behind him, she muttered, “After your little pep talk, I doubt I’ll ever sleep again.”
Chapter 5
“The dead-body mystery is solved.”
Stunned into immobility, Daisy felt the jump rope smack her shins. “You’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
“So?” Despite the speed of the rope, his voice was conversational. Daisy wondered what it would take to make him breathless and then blushed as her mind jumped right into the gutter. Clearing her throat, she refocused.
“You’re just telling me this now?” She was tempted to use the jump rope to strangle the man. That might make him breathless.