by Katie Ruggle
As she slowly returned to consciousness, she frowned. In addition to her rocklike pillow, there was also a heavy weight over her side, and the back of her shirt was damp with sweat, thanks to the heater behind her. Everything combined was odd enough to make her open her eyes.
Blinking a few times until her gaze focused, she saw the coffee table and the TV beyond it. From that, she determined that she’d fallen asleep on the living room couch. It didn’t explain the source of heat behind her or the weight pressing on her lower ribs, however.
Lifting her head and wincing at the stiff muscles in her neck, she saw the male hand resting on her belly. Her body jerked in surprise, and the radiator behind her gave a sleepy, masculine grunt. Daisy turned her head the other way and saw that his arm, the one not draped over her waist, was the hard pillow.
Racking her brain, she remembered getting drowsy during movie number three. At that time, she’d been curled up in her corner of the couch, while Chris had been sitting on the middle cushion, just close enough that she’d been able to touch his leg with her drawn-up toes. Sometime during the night, they must’ve shifted into this position.
Before she could wrap her brain around the fact that she was spooning with Chris, the big spoon himself stirred behind her.
“’Morning,” he rumbled, and Daisy tried not to fixate on how raspy and deep his just-woken voice was.
“’Morning,” she echoed. Her voice, in contrast, was slightly shrill, and she buried her face into the cushion to prevent herself from saying anything else. Unfortunately, she ended up grinding her forehead against his arm. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she pulled up her head. For good measure, she rolled away from him. Unfortunately, the couch wasn’t that wide, and she toppled onto the floor.
As she lay on her back, blinking at yet another ceiling, she was thankful she at least hadn’t hit her head on the coffee table when she went over the edge. She’d rather not be unconscious in front of Chris again—or be unconscious at all, really.
His blond head appeared, blocking her view of the ceiling. His hair was flattened on the right side of his head, and a slight scruff had grown in overnight. It didn’t seem quite fair that his sleep-mussed state made him more attractive, rather than less. Daisy was pretty sure her current look was more “hot mess” than “hot.”
“You okay?” he asked, still with that gravelly voice.
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “Just used to a wider bed.”
His lips curled in response. “Me too.” He pushed himself off the couch and stood, carefully placing his feet so he straddled her legs before he extended both arms. When she placed her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet. Once she was upright, he kept hold of her until she was steady. In fact, he didn’t let go until she squeezed his hands and gently pulled hers free so she could reach over her head to try to loosen up her stiff muscles.
“Thanks.” Her full-body stretch was accompanied by a yawn. “Want to hit the gym before breakfast?”
“No.” His newly awake expression had been replaced by his bossy one. “And neither are you. It’s a rest day.”
She folded forward to stretch her hamstrings and her back, hiding her face against her knees. Despite her position, Chris must have caught her grimace, since he continued lecturing—either that, or he just liked to lecture her.
“You need to let the muscle fibers repair themselves. That’s the only way you’ll grow stronger.” She’d heard this so many times, she could’ve mouthed the words along with him, but she didn’t. He’d just spent the night with her because she’d asked, and he was training her and her new entourage without complaint, so he didn’t deserve her teasing. Besides, she knew he was right. “If you work out every day, you’re not getting the full benefit of your training, and you’re just asking for an injury.”
Straightening, she couldn’t help giving him a mock-pout. “I hate rest days. They make me antsy.”
“I know.” To her shock, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her to the kitchen. Spooning and now side hugging—Chris had gotten oddly touchy-feely in the past twelve hours. Daisy figured she might as well take advantage of it while it lasted, so she leaned into his side, surprised once again when he didn’t pull away. “But just think how antsy you’d get if you couldn’t work out for weeks because you’d injured something by overtraining.”
“Yes, boss.” She sighed, pretending like her interest in working out hadn’t flown right out the window the minute he’d put his arm around her. “Breakfast then?”
“Sure.”
Since the stove was out of commission until the gas-line issue was worked out, they ended up eating cold cereal while sitting on the kitchen counter. Instead of his usual position across the room from her, Chris had hopped up next to her, adding to the morning’s oddities. Daisy wasn’t complaining, though—she’d take this relaxed, affectionate mood over weird Chris any day.
“I love milk,” she said, adding more to her bowl. “I think that’s what I miss the most when Dad’s delayed. No, lettuce. All fresh veggies, actually.”
He frowned. “That’s why I talked to Mr. Lee about getting your groceries delivered. If you want milk, then you should have milk.”
“I told you,” she said, poking him with the handle of her spoon, “I think it’s a great idea. I just wish you’d talked to me about it first. When you make decisions for me, it makes me feel like a kid—a stupid kid who needs to be taken care of.”
After a short pause as he chewed, he nodded. “Sorry. I’ll work on that. I’m just used to doing what needs to be done. Hazard of the job.”
“So, what you’re saying is that I’m basically just another dead elk in the road you need to deal with?” She tried to narrow her eyes in warning, but her mouth kept wanting to curl upward.
“Sometimes. Other times, you’re a domestic. Occasionally, you’re a disorderly conduct.”
Instead of her spoon, she used her fist to connect with his arm that time. Her fingers stung at the contact, but she refused to shake them and show it, especially when he just laughed.
“Speaking of disorderly conduct,” she said, “has the psycho-in-training across the street taken his revenge on the red-haired girlfriend yet?”
“Not yet.” He chewed with more force than the cereal required. “Her parents called a couple of nights ago when they heard voices outside. By the time I got there, the daughter was in the tree outside her bedroom window, hysterical. She’d been trying to sneak out to meet the Storvick kid but hadn’t thought through her escape route.”
Since her mouth was full of cereal, Daisy just raised her eyebrows in a request for him to continue.
“There weren’t any branches lower than twelve feet off the ground, so she was stuck.”
Her laugh came out as a snort. It took an effort to hold in her amusement until she’d swallowed. “How’d you get her down?”
“I couldn’t. She was screaming and clinging to the trunk. Her parents’ tallest ladder was only six feet, so I climbed up on that, but she was still above me. If she’d cooperated, I could’ve managed it, but I ended up having to call Fire.”
“So they took a break from getting cats out of trees to get a girl out of a tree. Were Rory and Ian there?”
“Yeah. They weren’t the ones to climb up and get her, though. Those two aren’t the most…” He paused, as if thinking of the right way to put it. “They don’t have the most…delicate touch of the firefighters, especially Rory. She would’ve been more likely to tell the girl to knock off the crying and get her butt out of the tree or else Rory was going to go get the tranquilizer gun.” The image made Daisy laugh again. “Two other firemen, Soup and Steve, were elected. Steve has two girls of his own, and Soup—I don’t know why Soup was picked. Maybe because of his teasing big-brother vibe? Whatever the reason, it worked. They eventually calmed her down enough to get her to release
her death-grip, and then it was pretty easy from there—at least as far as I could tell. I was on the other side of the yard, talking with Ian and Rory.”
“Did that convince her to dump Corbin for good?” Daisy’s bowl just held milk, so she dumped in some more cereal.
Chris’s shrug was doubtful. “Hope so. That kid is a problem.”
“Do you think he was the one looking in the windows of the empty house?”
“Probably.” He lifted his shoulders again. “There are a couple of other kids he hangs out with who cause just as much trouble as he does. It could’ve been one of them, too.”
“Or a completely random kid who was bored and in the area.”
“Yep.”
Thinking of the teenaged trespasser made her brain jump to the possible dead-body disposal and then to the murder case. “Did you find out anything new about Willard Gray?”
He absently tapped his spoon against the rim of his empty bowl. “Just more questions, especially if the arsons are somehow connected. Thanks for recording your meeting yesterday—and for the pictures and notes. I’m planning on going through all that and trying to put it together in a somewhat coherent report before presenting it to Rob.”
“Do you…” Feeling awkward about broaching the issue, since she knew her feelings about Chris’s boss were much different than his, she hesitated. Curiosity made her finally just ask. “Do you have any idea who the sheriff suspects? Or if he even has a specific person in mind?”
“No.” He reached to place his spoon and bowl next to the sink, and then he did the same with Daisy’s. “It’s making me crazy and paranoid, though. I’m looking at everyone suspiciously.”
Since Chris was the only deputy she knew, Daisy didn’t feel like she could be much help pinpointing who at the sheriff’s department might be the murderer. “Any luck getting ahold of Macavoy?”
His mouth went tight and flat with frustration. “None. He won’t return any of my calls or texts. Even though he said he was quitting because of a family issue, I called his mom—his emergency contact—and she didn’t know of any ‘family issue.’ Also, she hasn’t heard from him since he quit and took off. She gave me some names of friends and relatives of his, but they’ve all been dead ends so far.”
“I’m sorry.” She gave him a sympathetic grimace. “I wish I could help more.”
Hopping off the counter, he looked at her in surprise. “You are helping, Dais. We’ve gotten more new information from you and your training buddies than we’ve found in weeks.” He helped her down and stayed standing in front of her, close enough to make her breathe faster than normal. “It helps to talk to you, too, especially now that I have to keep my mouth shut at work, just in case the wrong person is listening.”
His proximity was shutting down her brain, so she just bobbed her head like a dummy. “Good. I mean, I’m glad I can help.”
“More than you know, Dais.” He leaned closer, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips and back. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, but he turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Even as the contact of his lips against her skin made her blood buzz with excitement, disappointment flooded her. She’d wanted a real kiss, not something a sister or grandma would receive. Shoving down her dissatisfaction, she told herself to enjoy their restored camaraderie and quit wanting more from him than he wanted to give. That was the road to becoming an angry, bitter old lady.
Chris pulled away and headed for the door. “I’m going to go home and grab a shower.”
Lifting the collar of her shirt so she could sniff it, she nodded, scrunching her face to make Chris laugh. “Me too.”
Her efforts were successful, and he chuckled as he unbolted the door. “Remember, it’s a rest day, so no exercise of any kind.”
“I might need to climb the stairs occasionally,” she said, trying to keep her expression serious.
“If you absolutely have to go upstairs, then do it slowly.” He winked at her as he left. “Bye, Dais.”
“Later, Chris.” Closing the door behind him, she started to turn the dead bolts, beginning at the bottom as she always did. When she reached the two chain locks, she fastened the first, but her hand stilled on the second one. Daisy’d had enough of longing and wishing for things to be different. To change, she needed to act. No matter how terrifying it was, the thought of a life trapped in her house, a life without Chris, was even scarier. With her heart pounding in her ears, she released the chain, letting it swing loosely against the door.
She took a step back, and then two, her eyes locked on the dangling, unsecured chain. The floor tilted beneath her, and she sat abruptly, not wanting to fall and hit her head if she fainted again. Her breath came fast and shallow, and her skin switched between hot and sweaty and clammy. To her relief, though, she stayed conscious.
Daisy wasn’t sure how long she stared at that one unfastened chain lock before her body stopped freaking out and returned to normal—seminormal, at least. Her hands still shook slightly, and her stomach felt raw and sore, as if she were recovering from the flu. The sweating had stopped, though, and her heartbeat, although elevated, had slowed from its initial hummingbird speed.
With her hands pressed to the floor, she shifted to her hands and knees. When that didn’t bring any waves of dizziness, she pushed herself to an upright kneeling position. Her vision blurred a little around the edges, so she waited until she was seeing clearly again before climbing to her feet.
Once she was up, she focused on the open lock again. It looked wrong, hanging there when the door was closed, and her fingers itched to secure it. Daisy resisted, though, turning to face the kitchen. She found it was easier when she wasn’t looking at the chain, so she took a step away from the door and then another.
When she reached the study, Daisy lowered herself to sit in the chair. There was an anxious buzz in the back of her mind, telling her that something wasn’t right. She could ignore it, though. She wasn’t fainting or sweating or hyperventilating, so she could handle the slight uneasiness that urged her to run to the door and fasten the lock.
“I did it,” she said quietly to the demon doll with teeth. A laugh bubbled out of her, unexpected and loud. “I did it!” Reaching for the doll, she almost grabbed it and hugged it, but then she pulled back her hand. It probably wouldn’t be wise to let the toy of the devil that close to her jugular. The thought made her laugh again, and she spun her chair in a circle.
It was a single lock on a single door, but for today, it was enough.
* * *
As soon as it got dark, Tyler slipped through the trees to his favorite watching spot. All her blinds were pulled, blocking his view, but he still stared at the house. Anger surged through him at the thought of how much trouble and worry she was causing. There had to be something Tyler could do to help his dad.
Absently, he pulled his favorite Zippo lighter out of his pocket and began flicking it open and closed in a steady rhythm. His dad always told him he needed to think things through before acting. Tyler could manage that. He’d wait and watch and eventually know what he had to do to keep their tiny family of two safe—and he’d do anything necessary.
His gaze dropped to the lighter as the tiny flame flared to life.
Anything.
Chapter 13
“Did you forget one?” Ellie asked, nodding toward the dangling chain.
“No.” Daisy had been waiting for someone to notice. It seemed too small a thing to announce out of the blue, but she’d hoped someone would ask so she could share her tiny victory. “I’m leaving it open. It’s been that way since yesterday morning.”
Ellie’s eyes widened along with her smile as she grabbed Daisy’s arm and jumped up and down. “Daisy!” Her name was an excited shriek that brought the others rushing back through the kitchen in a stampeding herd.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked sh
arply, his cop eyes raking over them.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Like Ellie, Daisy couldn’t stop smiling. The night had been hard—really hard. The open lock had haunted her, demanding that she go downstairs to fasten it, but she’d resisted. It had made it worse that she couldn’t kick the stuffing out of Max to relieve some of her nervous tension, but she’d promised Chris to take a day of rest. Instead, she’d cleaned and paced and listed the dolls for sale and tried unsuccessfully to read and stared blankly at the television. It had been miserable, but she’d done it, and she was very, very proud of herself.
“Look!” Ellie gestured toward the door with a game-show-hostess flourish. Everyone stared at the unfastened lock except for Daisy. She’d found it was better if she kept her gaze away from it.
Lou was the first to react. With a high-pitched scream that put Ellie’s earlier exclamation to shame, she lunged forward and grabbed Daisy in a tight hug.
“That’s so awesome, Daisy,” she said, finally releasing her so that Daisy could breathe. For a small woman, Lou was surprisingly strong. The others gathered around and gave her their sincere but more subdued congratulations. Chris stayed back, though, and Daisy sent him a worried look. She’d expected that he’d be the first to share her excitement.
“How long have you had that open?” His tone was even, but there was something in it that made the others come to a silent agreement to head toward the training room after a final round of pats and accolades.
Now that it was just her and an impassive Chris, insecurity began bleaching out Daisy’s excitement. “I never latched it after you left yesterday.”
He stared at the lock a long time before meeting her eyes again. “Daisy.”
“What?” Her nervousness bubbled over, mixing with hurt. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
In two strides, he was right in front of her. “I am.” He glanced at the lock again and blew out a hard breath as his gaze returned to her. “Dais. This is…incredible.” Finally, he started to smile.