by Katie Ruggle
Her stomach twisting in remembered fear, she gave the other women a condensed summary of the incident. “Is Ian in a lot of trouble?”
Rory shrugged. “Not as much as after he went into his dad’s burning house against orders. He’ll have to do some of the nastier tasks around the station for a week or two, and then he’ll be off the hook. Chief Early knows he’s not going to change.”
“I’m sorry,” Daisy said for what felt like the hundredth time.
Rory didn’t look upset. “Not your fault. Ian’s just…how he is.” By the sappy look on her face, she liked Ian exactly as he was. “Did the chief determine it was just an accident, then?”
“Probably.” To Daisy, it didn’t feel like an accident. It was one more way the house was turning from a sanctuary into a trap. “Although the repairman said the damage was strange.”
“Strange?” the other women echoed.
“Strange as in deliberate?” Lou asked.
“The repair guy laughed at the idea when Chris suggested it.” Although she knew it was ridiculous to think that someone had intentionally sabotaged her stove—had tried to kill her—Daisy’s stomach was churning.
The other women exchanged uneasy glances. “But did he say it couldn’t have been deliberate?” Ellie asked.
Even in her Chris-induced happy daze, the possibility that someone had intentionally caused the gas leak had been poking at the back of her brain. “No. Who would’ve done that, though? And why?”
“An explosion sounds right up an arsonist’s alley,” Lou said in a hushed voice, as if she were in danger of being overheard. “And you were a witness to a possible dead-body moving.”
“But who? And how?” Daisy repeated, unable to wrap her head around the idea that someone hated her enough to try to kill her. “No one ever comes inside. Only my dad, Chris, our workout group, Tyler Coughlin, and that real estate agent.” As she listed off the names, Lou wrote them down.
“Real estate agent?” Rory repeated.
Daisy grimaced. “We need to have these meetings more often. The real estate agent was showing the house across the street, and they found blood on the ceiling. Chris wanted to get a warrant to search the place, but the sheriff refused.”
“Why?” Lou turned from the notepad. “I would think blood would be suspicious enough to call for a search, especially after what you saw.”
“Tyler Coughlin was here?” Rory interrupted.
A little startled by the change in topics, Daisy blinked at her before answering. “Yes. He’s my grocery-delivery boy.”
Looking grim, Rory stared at the names on the list. “When was he here last?”
The room suddenly felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of it. Daisy barely found enough air to speak. “Yesterday,” she said in a tiny voice. “Right before the gas leak.”
“Tyler?” Ellie sounded shocked. “The sheriff’s son? But he’s a kid!”
“He’s sixteen.” Lou drew a circle around his name. “Old enough to know how to start a fire. And that would explain why the sheriff would try to cover for him.”
“Including the missing arson reports,” Rory added.
Swallowing hard, Daisy thought about bashful Tyler, all gangly arms and legs, who pretended he was grown up enough to like coffee. “I don’t know. It fits, but… Do you think he murdered Willard Gray, too? I don’t think he’d be capable of killing someone, do you?”
“If it was him, he tried to blow up your house,” Rory said flatly, “with you in it.”
Everyone went silent. Daisy tried to wrap her head around the idea that Tyler had tried to kill her. The Tyler she’d seen—the awkward, lonely boy—was a murderer. And Tyler’s father…how much had he known?
“The sheriff knew about the arsons,” she started carefully. “Do you think he also knew about Willard Gray? Or my gas leak?”
“He couldn’t,” Ellie said firmly. “There’s no way. To cover up something like that, Rob would have to be just as much of a monster as his son.”
Rory looked uncertain, but Lou added, “I agree. He seems to really care about people. I don’t think he could have known what Tyler was doing—the killing part, at least—and allow it to continue.”
“What do we do?” Daisy asked, her heart thumping like she’d just sprinted a mile. She wasn’t as sure that the sheriff wasn’t complicit in his son’s murderous activities, but the other women knew Rob better than she did.
Carefully capping the marker, Lou placed it on the coffee table. “You need to call Chris.”
* * *
Chris stared grimly at the notebook with unseeing eyes. “Give me until tomorrow.”
The women looked at each other. “He’s killed people,” Daisy said carefully. “If it is Tyler, we need to make sure he’s stopped before he hurts someone.”
“I know.” When Chris turned his head and met her eyes, she almost flinched. Instead of his usual cheery expression, he just looked tired and sad. “Just give me a little time to figure out how to tell Rob, and then we can bring this information to the BCA.”
“Don’t tell him tonight,” Lou warned, her knee jiggling up and down. Since she’d abandoned the notepad, she hadn’t been able to sit still. “Rob is a good guy, but this is his son. We’re pretty sure he’s been covering up the arsons. Murder is a whole different thing, and we don’t think Rob would defend Tyler for that. If we’re wrong, though, he could take Tyler and run.”
“I know. I’ll tell him first thing tomorrow, and we’ll call in the state investigators immediately afterward.”
Ellie had been chewing on the side of her thumbnail until she’d grabbed her arm with her opposite hand and pulled both into her lap. “What if it’s not him? We don’t have any proof.”
“At the very least,” Chris said, “the case needs to be taken over by someone who’ll be objective. If they find that Tyler’s innocent, I’ll be very happy.” He didn’t sound like he expected that outcome, though.
“Should we meet here tomorrow at nine, then?” Rory said, and everyone’s eyes went to Chris.
“Yes.” His cop mask had fallen into place. “I’ll plan to talk to him at eight.”
“I’ll see if Cal’s up for a stakeout,” Lou offered. “We’ll keep an eye on Tyler’s house to make sure he doesn’t sneak out and commit any felonies tonight.”
“If you take from now until midnight, Ian and I’ll take the graveyard shift.”
Ellie leaned forward. “I’ll see if George can do the last four hours with me. If he can’t, I’m kind of useless. George doesn’t like me to go anywhere alone without asking Rob for a deputy, and telling the sheriff I’m right outside of his house, spying on his son, would be…uh, bad.”
Although there were a few chuckles at that, the laughter quickly died. Subdued, the other women left. It was strange, Daisy thought, when normally the group was so loud and boisterous. She looked at Chris, who hadn’t moved.
“You okay?” she asked, wanting to hug him. When he was wearing that stoic expression, though, he almost felt like a stranger.
When he looked at her, his cop-mask fell away, revealing the worry beneath. “How am I going to tell Rob his kid’s a killer?”
Rushing forward, Daisy wrapped her arms around him, trying to give him that feeling of loving security she always felt when Chris was holding her. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
He hugged her back, a little harder than usual. The items on his duty belt pressed against her belly, a physical reminder of his job, of that huge part of him that would always be a cop. Daisy was aware it would be hard to let him leave for work every day, knowing he could be injured or even killed. She loved Chris, though, and that meant loving the deputy, too.
She tipped her head back so she could meet his gaze. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” His arms tighten
ed around her. “Tyler’s targeted you. I don’t want you to be alone until they pick him up tomorrow.”
“Good,” she said, not wanting to let go of him. “I like having you around.”
His smile was a ghost of his usual grin. “Love you, Dais.”
“I know.”
That made him laugh.
* * *
Once Rory, Lou, and Ellie had left, Tyler hurried across the street and wiggled under the porch, just like he’d watched his dad do the other night. The cover to the crawl space was in place, but the screws were missing, so Tyler just moved it over and slid into the hole feetfirst.
The crawl space was about four feet high. Crouching, Tyler shuffled forward, shining his flashlight—set to the dimmest setting—on the boards above him, checking for the hatch that would allow him into the house. The stove thing hadn’t worked, so he was going to try again. This time, he’d do better. He’d get rid of the threat to his dad.
“You okay?” Daisy’s voice made him freeze and flick off his flashlight. Tyler figured he was right beneath her, since her words were only slightly muffled.
“How am I going to tell Rob his kid’s a killer?”
Tyler stopped breathing for a second. They knew! Chris and Daisy knew, and they were going to tell, and Tyler and his dad would both go to prison. He hesitated as his mind raced. Tyler’s plan wouldn’t work now that Chris was there. Soundlessly, he retraced his path to the opening under the porch.
As much as he wanted to take care of things himself, Tyler knew he had to tell his dad what he’d heard. His dad would know what to do.
Chapter 21
Chris paced the kitchen as Daisy unenthusiastically checked out the options for dinner. Nothing looked appetizing, and she knew they were both too stressed and anxious to eat. Giving up on her search for food, she leaned back against the counter just as Chris’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, and his face went grim. “Rob,” he answered, sounding robotic. It felt like her heart stopped for a second before her heartbeat took off at a gallop.
“Now? Right. Okay.” Chris’s impassive expression had acquired a few cracks, and he didn’t look happy. “I’m already at Daisy’s, so just knock when you get here.”
Chris’s free hand tightened into a fist. When Daisy glanced at his balled fingers, he must have noticed, since he stretched them flat again. Monotone and even, his voice didn’t reveal his anger.
“See you.” He ended the call and returned his phone to his belt with restrained violence. Once he glanced at her, though, his face softened. “Guess I’ll be having that talk with Rob sooner than later.”
“What’s up?”
He grimaced. “Rob decided I was right about doing a search. He got a warrant for the house across the street this afternoon, but the gas leak put it on the back burner.”
She snorted at his unintentional—at least she hoped it was unintentional—pun.
His quick grin didn’t clarify whether he’d meant the play on words or not, and he soon sobered. “He’s coming over so we can search the house.”
“Tonight?” She glanced at the black window. “In the dark?”
“Rob said we’ll do the interior tonight and then come back tomorrow to search the yard.”
Her stomach was churning as every instinct she had screamed a warning. “Why is he willing to search the house his son lit on fire—and where Tyler might have killed someone?”
“He said we won’t be going into the room that burned. Safety reasons.” The last two words were heavy with sarcasm. “I can’t believe Rob knows how bad Tyler’s gotten. Covering up an arson, especially when it’s an unoccupied shed, is a much different thing than hiding a murder. Rob lives by a strict moral code. There’s no way his conscience would allow him to do that.”
She made a noncommittal sound. It seemed that she was the only one who believed the sheriff was capable of covering up his son’s murderous tendencies. “Will you talk to the sheriff about Tyler tonight instead of tomorrow morning, then?”
His cheerful expression flattened as he sighed. “I’m going to have to. There’s no way I can pretend that nothing’s wrong the entire time we’re searching.”
“Do you think he’ll fire you?” Daisy asked, hating that Chris could be punished for doing the right thing.
“Maybe.” His tone was even, but Daisy knew how much Chris wanted to stay with the sheriff’s department. “I have no idea how he’ll react. He’s all about the rules, except when it comes to his son. When I think of everything he’s done to cover up Tyler’s arsons…”
Daisy’s breath caught. “Do you think the sheriff is the one who—”
A heavy knock on the door stopped her words. She turned too fast and almost slipped, but Chris caught her arm, steadying her—physically, at least. “The sheriff’s here. How am I supposed to make small talk with him when we’ve just been accusing his son of murder?”
“I’ll go. You can stay here.” He gently nudged her toward the stairs as he gave a humorless laugh. “This is going to be fun, processing a crime scene while finding a tactful way to ask my boss if his kid could be a killer. If it’s not too late when we finish over there, I’ll come back tonight.”
“Come back, even if it is too late,” she told him, a warm flicker cutting through the chill that lingered in her chest from their previous conversation. “I’ll be up.”
His smile disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. His shoulders stiffened, and he headed for the door. Daisy heard the inner door click as it latched behind Chris, and she hurried back up the stairs to her bedroom window, turning off the lamp on her way.
Resting one knee on the window seat, she watched Chris and the sheriff cross the street as they headed toward the empty house. While Chris took a detour to the parked squad, collecting a black case from the cargo area, Coughlin fiddled with the lockbox hanging from the knob on the front door. He must have gotten the code from the owners or the realtor, since he unlocked the door and held it open for Chris.
The two men disappeared into the house, and Daisy sagged into the window seat, knowing it was going to be an endless few hours of staring at the blank outside of the house. The large front window lit, clearly showing the interior of the living room and the two men moving around inside. Room by room, they turned on the lights. When the owners had moved, they’d apparently taken all the blinds with them. The only window that stayed dark was the one that had shown flames the night before.
Once almost the entire house was illuminated, Chris and Rob returned to the living room. It was like watching a muted movie on a very small screen. Not for the first time, Daisy wished for binoculars. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the glass.
Even with the distance, it was easy to tell that the two men had worked together for a long time. They moved around the room in an efficient rhythm, and Daisy hoped that meant the search would be quick, and Chris would be back at her house even before she had a chance to get bored watching them collecting evidence.
There was a thump downstairs. Startled, Daisy jumped from the window seat. She strained to listen, but her heart pounding in her ears drowned out any other sounds. Creeping toward the bedroom door, she flinched as a floorboard creaked under her foot. She paused in the doorway, but she still didn’t hear anything.
Daisy started wondering if she was imagining this, like she’d imagined the intruder the other night. This sound had been loud and definitely inside the house, though. Taking a couple of steps out into the hall, she inhaled a deep, steadying breath—and froze.
She smelled smoke.
As her heart began to gallop, she reversed her steps, hurrying back into her bedroom toward the bedside table where her phone was charging. Chris was just across the street. She’d call him, and he’d be inside her house in seconds. Grabbing her cell, she pushed the main button, but nothing
happened. Daisy stared at the black screen as she pushed the start button over and over. It was charged and only a few months old—why was her phone dead?
Giving up, she rushed out of her bedroom. There were fire extinguishers. She could use those to put out the fire before it got out of control. As she descended the stairs, the smell of smoke grew stronger.
In the downstairs hall, she flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. Could something electrical have blown, causing the smoke and a loss of power? Strangely enough, the thought was almost reassuring, that there was an explanation. As frightening as an electrical fire might be, unexplained thumps and smoke and power outages were even more terrifying.
As she entered the kitchen, intending to grab a flashlight from the utility drawer, she stopped abruptly. Flames flickered in the entryway, coloring the kitchen red. The smoke was thicker, burning her throat and making her cough. Pressing her sleeve against her mouth and nose, she grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink. When she turned around, pulling the pin to unlock the device, a backlit, menacing figure was standing in the kitchen doorway.
With a shriek, she squeezed the lever, dousing the person with foam. He lurched toward her, so she threw the extinguisher at him and ran into the living room. Blinded by the darkness after she’d stared into the fire, she crashed into a chair and tumbled to the ground, landing painfully on her hip and shoulder.
As soon as she hit, she was scrambling to her feet again, running almost before she had her feet untangled from the chair legs. Unable to resist a glance behind her, she saw Tyler moving slowly from the kitchen, pouring something from a rectangular can onto the floor.
It felt like time slowed as he put the container down and pulled out a matchbook. Tyler struck a match, the small flame standing out against the red and orange of the burning kitchen, and looked at her, smiling faintly, as he tossed it to the floor. Fire zipped along the line of accelerant, lighting the fumes in a tiny wall of flame.