Gone Too Deep (39 page)

“Other than…?” Rob repeated, forcing out the words.

“Well, Daisy thought the object being put into the squad might have been a body.”

Closing his eyes, Rob swallowed a frustrated grunt. Why couldn't things ever go smoothly? All he wanted to do was protect his son and the community, but it felt like roadblocks were being thrown in his way at every turn. “A body?” He put as much amused disbelief into his voice as he could manage.

“I know it sounds hard to believe,” Chris said, “but if Daisy saw something she thinks is suspicious, it's worth checking out.”

“Wait, is this Daisy Little you're talking about?” Recognition hit, and Rob kicked himself for not making the connection earlier. “The girl who hasn't left the house since her mom was killed in that robbery?” Some of the tension left his body. This kind of witness he could handle.

“Yes.” Chris's voice was sharply defensive.
Interesting.
“Daisy says there was something off about the situation, and I believe her.”

“Agreed. I'll look into it.”
One more clean-up job.

“Yeah?” Chris said, sounding surprised and pleased. “Great. Thanks for taking this seriously.”

“Of course. As soon as I'm done here, I'll stop by Daisy's to talk to her. We'll figure this out.”

“Thanks again, Rob.”

After Chris ended the call, Rob squeezed his eyes closed and allowed himself a full minute of mental cursing. Then, shaking off his frustration, he picked up the bottle of bear bait and began to pour it over Anderson's body. Once the scavengers were done with the corpse, any evidence of the bullet holes would be destroyed. In the unlikely case that his remains were found, it would be determined that Anderson had fallen prey to exposure.

Rob pushed away worries about Daisy Little.
Deal with one threat at a time
, he told himself, recapping the empty bottle and stowing it in his backpack.

A raven croaked from its perch on the blackened skeleton of a pine tree. As Rob glanced at the bird, it was joined by two more, all of them eyeing him with interest. With a grim smile, he gestured toward the bait-soaked corpse.

“Bon appétit.”

* * *

The knock was different, unfamiliar, and Daisy's finger hesitated over the intercom button for a long moment. It would probably be safer to pretend she wasn't home.

The thought made her huff a humorless laugh. Everyone in Simpson knew she was
always
home, so that probably wasn't the best and brightest plan.

When the rapping came again, louder that time, she jumped, her finger unintentionally pressing the button. Decision made for her, she leaned toward the intercom and hoped that the staticky connection would disguise the shake in her voice.

“Who is it?”

“Hi!” An unfamiliar female voice came through the speaker. “I'm Lou Sparks. Louise, actually, but you can just pretend I never told you that. Chris said he warned you I was coming.”

“Warned?”

The intercom turned Lou's laugh into a buzz at the end. “Yes. He actually used the word ‘warned.' I was terribly offended.”

She didn't sound offended. In fact, her merry tone made Daisy smile and push the button to unlock the exterior door. “Come in.”

Even after the clunk and click of the exterior door closing and locking, Daisy hesitated a few more seconds before starting on the row of deadbolts. That morning's incident had pushed her from cautious to paranoid. It was fine when she had a pane of glass separating her from the world, but the bare, wide-open doorway had brought her to her knees—or, more accurately, to her back.

She cut off that entire train of thought. It wasn't the time to analyze her issues, since she had a guest trapped between the doors.

As if to emphasize that fact, a muffled voice asked tentatively, “Should I knock again? Just let me know the procedure.”

Sliding the last chain lock free, Daisy pulled open the door. A pretty blond woman in her midtwenties stood on the other side.

“No procedure. I mean, I just wait until the outside door closes before I unlock this one, but there's no other…” She shook her head, taking a step back so Lou could enter. “Sorry. I'm babbling. Come in. I'm not normally so scattered. It's just been a weird day so far.”

Lou grinned. “Well, you have one up on me, then, since I do babble, pretty much constantly, and I don't need a strange day to make it happen.”

Her fingers shook a little as Daisy relocked the interior door, and she tried to mentally force them to stop. Was she that far gone that a new visitor made her quiver like a Chihuahua?

“I'm okay with babbling,” she…well, babbled, before she bit off the rest of the words that wanted to come pouring out of her mouth. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee or…” Mentally, Daisy inventoried the beverages in the fridge and held back a wince. “Water? I'm sorry that there's not much of a selection.”

“Water would be great.” Stepping out of her boots, Lou hung her jacket on the coat rack next to the door. “Today's my day off, but I normally work at a coffee shop. I don't drink coffee when I'm there, but I still think I absorb the caffeine through my pores, or something. Anyway, I'm normally wired enough that I don't need to add a stimulant to the mix.”

Daisy wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she focused on digging a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Thanks,” Lou said, taking a few steps closer so she could grab the bottle. “Your kitchen is amazing.”

“My dad just completed remodeling it about a year ago. It took forever for him to finish, since he kept having to leave to go to job sites. After living in half-constructed hell for that long, I'm still grateful just to have a working sink.”

“Your dad lives here with you?” Lou explored the room unashamedly, running her fingers over the mosaic tiles that made up the backsplash.

“Yes. Well,” Daisy corrected herself, “when he's not out of town, working on a job.”

“Construction?”

“Alternative energy systems. He installs solar panels, wind turbines, things like that. His clients are really spread out, though, so he just parks the camper close to whatever job he's working on at the time. Right now, he's in Connor Springs. He's due back tonight, actually.”

Lou cocked her head, giving her an unreadable look. “Connor Springs is only twenty miles away.”

Dropping her gaze, Daisy busied herself with making yet another cup of coffee. “I think he likes being at the job site at night. That way, he can keep an eye on his equipment.”

“Okay.” Lou's voice was gentle—
too
gentle—and Daisy cleared her throat, determined to change the subject.

“Are you really a lawyer?” When Lou looked startled, Daisy explained, “Chris mentioned something about that.”

“I made it through law school.” Lou said “law school” with the same amount of disgust most people reserved for “cockroaches.” “I even passed the bar. I never practiced, though. I decided I'd rather have the money, power, and prestige that comes from being a barista in Simpson.”

Daisy snorted a laugh and was immediately embarrassed by the piglike sound. “I have you beat for least prestigious jobs.”

“You work?”

She tried not to be offended at the surprise in the other woman's voice. After all, it had been a long and arduous search for a way for her to make money without leaving the house. “Yep. I sell things online. Antiques and collectables, mainly. Dad goes to the auctions and estate sales, and he brings back boxes and boxes filled with…well, mostly junk.” She gave a small laugh. “Dad doesn't have a clue about old stuff, and he doesn't have any interest in learning about it, either. He texts a lot of pictures, and I text back with a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. I clean and repair what I think will sell and then list it online.”

“Nice,” Lou said, playing with the cap of her water bottle. “Ingenious, really. There probably aren't that many jobs that don't require at least
some
outside time.”

“Nope, there really aren't.” Her smile felt a little forced as she gestured toward the living room with the hand not holding her coffee mug. “Did you want to sit down?”

“Sure.” As Daisy led the way, Lou continued, “I have to say that your house is not what I expected. In fact,
you
're not what I expected.”

Although she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, Daisy couldn't resist asking, “In what way?”

Lou settled on one end of the sofa, tucking her socked feet underneath her. She was so relaxed, as if she'd been there a hundred times before. Sitting on the other side of the couch, Daisy was envious, unable to even imagine possessing that kind of confidence.

“Well, you're hot, for one.”

Lou's comment caught Daisy in the middle of taking a sip of coffee. It took some effort not to spray the mouthful across the room. “Excuse me?”

Her expression must have revealed her reaction, since Lou laughed. “When I think ‘shut-in,' I think old and ugly, and you're definitely neither. I also imagined you dressed like an Amish woman, but I'm not sure why.”

Daisy choked again. “Um…Amish?”

“You know.” Lou gestured at her own thermal shirt and jeans. “Long dress, apron, funky hat.”

After sitting with her mouth open for a few seconds, Daisy started laughing. “
Why?
”

“I said I didn't
know
why!” Despite her aggrieved tone, Lou was snickering, as well. “When I heard that you didn't leave the house, a picture of an Amish grandma popped into my head. It was random and weird. That happens to me a lot.”

“Mental pictures of Amish grandmothers?”

“Well, sometimes. But mostly random and weird thoughts.”

“I see.” Taking a deep breath, Daisy got her amusement under control. “Why did the house surprise you? Did you have a mental picture of that, too?”

“Yes.” Lou winced, taking a drink of her water in an obvious attempt to delay elaborating.

“Tell me. I promise I won't be offended.”

“Piles of newspapers and lots of cats,” Lou muttered, her gaze focused firmly on the water bottle cap she was twisting and untwisting.

“Huh.” Although Daisy figured she
should
be insulted, she just found it funny. “So, I'm an elderly Amish hoarder.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Wouldn't ‘Amish hoarder' be some kind of oxymoron?”

Lou laughed. “I think so.”

When their laughter faded, the silence reminded Daisy of the purpose of Lou's visit. “Did Chris tell you why he thought we should talk?”

“Not really,” Lou said. “He called me this morning and said it would behoove me to swing by Daisy Little's house to chat, and that he'd ‘warned' you I'd be coming. There were lots of meaningful pauses, but I had no clue what he was getting at. He was being very un-Chris-like in his vagueness, but he was pretty insistent about me talking to you. When I told him that Callum had the truck, Chris even picked me up from my house and drove me here.”

“He told me he couldn't talk about the Willard Gray case, but that I should talk to you.”

Lou's eyes lit, and she leaned toward Daisy. “Do you know something about the case? I'm doing a whole Encyclopedia Brown thing, ever since I discovered poor Willard.”

“Encyclopedia…what?”

Waving off the question, Lou tilted so far forward that Daisy was afraid she'd topple over. “I've been looking into Willard Gray's murder, even before we knew who he was. Callum and I put together a murder board and everything.”

The more Lou explained things, the more confused Daisy got. “A murder board?”

“It's just a whiteboard with everything we know about the case. I snuck a couple of my less wild theories on there, too, much to Callum's dismay. He's more of a just-the-facts kind of guy.”

“O-kay.” Daisy took a sip of coffee to give her a chance to digest some of what Lou had just thrown at her. “So, Chris wants me to tell you what I saw this morning so you can add it to your killer board?”

“Murder board.” Lou was actually bouncing on her sofa cushion. Daisy understood why she'd declined caffeine. Even without it, Lou looked about ready to rocket into space. “What did you see this morning? Did Chris actually think it was related to Willard's case? You need to start spilling immediately. I'm dying here!”

“I'm spilling! I'm spilling!” Daisy hurried to explain before Lou started levitating. “I think I saw someone moving a body.”

Lou went perfectly still before shrieking, “
What??
”

Wincing, Daisy shot the other woman a look.

“Sorry,” Lou mumbled through the fingers she'd clapped over her mouth. After a few deep breaths, she let her hand drop back to her lap. “I get excited when someone mentions dead bodies. Oh, wow, that just went to a really wrong place, didn't it? Okay, so forget my disturbing remark and get back to your story. I promise there will be no more screaming, unless you reveal something totally shocking. Let's just say that I will attempt to keep my verbal exclamation points to a minimum, how about that?”

“Um…sure. This morning, around three thirty, I saw someone loading what looked like a tarp-wrapped body into a sheriff's department vehicle.”

Instead of screaming, Lou just stared, her mouth open. Daisy sipped her coffee and let the other woman process the information. After several moments passed, Lou finally moved. She set her water bottle on the coffee table with the utmost care. Pulling her cell phone out of her back jeans pocket, she jabbed at the screen and then put the cell to her ear.

“Cal,” Lou said into her phone, “you need to bring the whiteboard over to Daisy Little's house. I'm getting vital information here. I need my markers.” Her forehead creased at his response. “The whiteboard is an important part of our investigation team, Cal. We need him here.” She continued in an overly patient tone, as if the answer should've been obvious. “Of course the whiteboard is male. I named him Emerson.” Lou paused again. “Because someone named Emerson has to be intelligent. So, are you up for a whiteboard delivery?”