In Safe Hands (33 page)

If Daisy had known how long it would be before she got to go home, she might've reconsidered leaving her house. But then an image of Chris's limp body flashed through her mind, making her shake her head. Even if she'd known she'd never get to return home, nothing could've stopped her from heading to his rescue.

“Daisy?”

“Dad?” She blinked at the bearded face peering around the curtain that made up the wall of her cubicle. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about what happened on the radio—well, the basics, at least. They didn't mention you, but I called to make sure you were okay. When you didn't answer your cell phone, I tried Jennings. His went to voice mail, too, so I drove to Simpson. The fire chief told me they'd taken you to Connor Springs in the ambulance.” He eyed the scrubs a kind nurse had found for her to change into when her gory clothes had been taken away in evidence bags. “He said you were covered in blood.”

“Not mine,” she explained. “Except for some bruising on my face and…well, pretty much everywhere, I'm okay. The EMTs insisted I come here, though.” Under the cover of their professional calm, she'd been able to tell that the amount of gore she'd been wearing had freaked them out. It had taken a while to convince them that they weren't missing a gushing injury.

“How'd…” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and started again. “You're out of the house. Was it the fire?”

“No.” After all the horror and shocks of the night, her trek through the burning house and across the street had been pushed to the back of her mind to deal with later. “I saw the sheriff attack Chris. I had to go.”

That time, she was pretty sure his face swipe was to wipe away tears. Gabe caught the back of a chair like it was a cane and lowered himself onto it. Propping his elbows just above his knees, he stared at the floor.

“That's…good, Daisy. Really good.”

From her spot sitting on the padded table, she reached over and patted his rounded shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”

For a while, they sat in silence. Daisy had to fight back her threatening tears at the sight of her hard-as-nails father crying. Eventually, he gave his face a final, two-handed rub and leaned back in his chair, stretching his work boots out in front of him.

“Where are we going to live?” she asked, wanting to break the silence that had grown awkward.

Cutting off his laugh in the middle, he shook his head. “Don't worry about that right now. We'll stay at the motel if we need to.”

“I wonder how Chris is doing.” She was tempted to start a search of the hospital to find him.

As if he'd been waiting for an excuse to move, her dad stood abruptly. “Want me to check on him?”

“Sure. That'd be great. Ask”—Gabe was already gone, so she sighed and finished her sentence under her breath—“if I can see him.”

And she was left alone again. Although she understood that she was low priority for the medical staff, Daisy wished someone would let her know she was free to go, so she could track down Chris and see with her own eyes that he really was okay. She wouldn't be able to relax until she felt his arms around her again.

When the curtain moved, she looked up, expecting her dad, but a strange man entered instead. Daisy stiffened, and he apparently saw her unease, judging from the way he lifted his hands, palms out, as if to show he wasn't a threat.

“Daisy Little?” he asked.

As she nodded, she watched him warily. He wasn't a big man, but he exuded authority. His dark hair was tidy and his clothes neat, although fairly casual.

“I'm Paul Strepple.” He didn't reach out to shake her hand, and Daisy was grateful for that. Still uncertain of him, she definitely didn't want to touch him yet. “Investigator with the Colorado BCA.”

Pulling his ID out of his pocket, he held it out to her. Although she wouldn't know authentic BCA identification from something created by a five-year-old forger, Daisy examined it closely. “Because of the circumstances, we've been charged with investigating.”

“Weren't you already?” she asked, remembering Chris telling her about the state's involvement in the Willard Gray case.

“We'd been assisting,” he said, returning his ID to his pocket. “We'll be heading up the investigation from this point on.”

She nodded, waiting for his questions. It didn't take long. He asked about the usual personal information—full name, date of birth, address—and then he paused, eyeing her closely.

“So, Ms. Little. What happened tonight?”

Her inhale was slightly shaky, and it rasped against her aching throat. She really did not want to relive the evening, but it had to be done. Mentally pulling up her big-girl panties, she told the investigator what had happened, starting from the sheriff's phone call to Chris and ending with the two deputies' entrance.

“Gas leak?” he asked when she'd finished, so she backtracked and explained about her malfunctioning stove and Tyler's quick exit after he'd been alone in her kitchen. “And what did Tyler mean about you seeing his father with King?”

“I'm guessing that the sheriff was the guy I saw hauling the dead body to his SUV,” she said.

Strepple's eyes bulged, showing surprise—or any emotion, really—for the first time since his arrival. “You saw Robert Coughlin moving King's body?”

“Yes, but I didn't know it was him.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “I didn't know it was definitely a dead body, either. The boot falling out of the tarp made me suspicious, though.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Strepple said with exaggerated calm, “Why don't you go back to the beginning and tell me exactly what you saw.”

Daisy did, adding the sheriff's odd behavior toward her. In the middle of her retelling, Gabe stuck his head around the curtain.

“You okay, Daisy?” he asked, eyeing the investigator with suspicion.

“Fine. Thanks, Dad.” She smiled at him with an effort, so tired that even lifting the corners of her mouth was a struggle. “Did you find Chris?”

“Sort of. He's getting X-rays, so I found out his general location, but I haven't seen him myself.” After another glance at Strepple, he turned back to Daisy. “I'm going to run to the cafeteria and grab some food. Want anything?”

Too tired to be hungry, she shook her head and gave him a small wave before he disappeared again. With a silent sigh, she picked up her statement where she'd left off.

“So neither the sheriff's department nor the fire department had reports on these arsons?” He seemed more bothered by this than the murder. Apparently, missing paperwork was the ultimate crime.

“That's right.” Daisy swallowed back a yawn. “Ian has his own copies of the calls he went on. It's not all of them, but it's a start.”

“Thank you. I'll ask him.” Since Strepple looked like he was preparing to leave, she assumed the interview was almost over.

“Wait,” Daisy said, and he looked over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. “Did Tyler burn down Lou's cabin, too, or was that really her stalker?”

“Lou's cabin?” Strepple squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in pain before turning back toward Daisy. “Why don't you start at the beginning with that one, too?”

By the time she'd finished telling the investigator everything she knew about the Coughlins' crimes and possible additional wrongdoing, another forty minutes had passed.

“Thank you, Ms. Little.” Strepple moved toward the curtain, looking determined to leave that time. “You've been very helpful.”

“Have you talked to Chris yet?”

“Not yet,” he told her without pausing. “I'm going to do that now.”

“Oh!” Hopping off the padded table, she hurried after him. “Can I go with you? I just want to see him to make sure he's okay, and then he'll be all yours.”

Stopping but not turning around, Strepple was quiet for a second. “Fine,” he finally sighed. “Two minutes, and then you need to leave.”

“Deal.” She followed him through a maze of hallways. Her breathing sped up when she left the safety of her enclosed space, so she focused on the back of Strepple's jacket and concentrated on making her inhale exactly the same length as her exhale. It worked well enough to keep her from passing out before they reached a curtained cubicle that matched the one she'd just left. Once Daisy passed through the opening into the exam area, she ducked around the investigator and saw Chris lying on his own padded table, looking weary and cranky and hurt.

“Chris!” Her voice was embarrassingly close to a squeak, but he didn't seem to mind. A grin eased the pain lines on his face, even though his swollen mouth pulled his smile in the wrong directions, and he pushed himself to a seated position and held out his arms toward her.

“Hey, Dais. You doing okay?”

Hurrying into his hug, she pressed her sore face into his shoulder. Under the hospital smell was Chris's usual scent, and she felt herself relaxing against him. “A few bruises, that's all.” Pulling away just far enough to meet his eyes, she reached a hand toward his swollen, discolored face. “Ouch.”

“I'm fine.” He gave her another painful-looking grin. “I'll be ugly for a while, but nothing's seriously damaged.”

His tone was a little too light, and she frowned at him suspiciously. “They didn't find anything broken on the X-rays?”

“No.” He lifted his hand to run a light finger over her sore cheek, and she caught her breath as she spotted the wicked-looking bruise forming on the back of his forearm. That must've been where the baton hit when he blocked. “Dais.” He gently tilted her head so she wasn't able to see his injured arm. “It'll be fine. I'm even getting out of here tonight.”

Her laugh was shaky, but she forced it out anyway. “I don't think it's tonight anymore. I'm pretty sure it's tomorrow.”

“It is,” Strepple said, gaining their attention. “I need to get your statement, Deputy.”

“Dad's here,” Daisy hurried to tell Chris. “He'll drive us to Simpson once we've been released.”

“Okay.” He pulled her down for the lightest touch of lips, which still hurt. Daisy didn't care, though. It was worth a little pain to kiss Chris. “See you in a bit.”

Reluctantly, she pulled away. It was hard to leave an injured Chris to the mercies of the investigator, but she needed to find her missing father. After all, he was their ride home.

“Sure you're ready for this?” Chris's smile was teasing. “Lou in her own habitat… It's a little scary.”

Daisy laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Lou's awesome, no matter where she is. And I was born ready.” At his smirk, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, so maybe I took a detour between birth and a few weeks ago, but I'm definitely ready now.”

“Let's do this, then.”

Despite her words, it took an effort to open the truck door and an even greater one to climb out of her seat. She focused on the pavement right in front of her feet until her heart settled down a little. With a deep breath, she lifted her chin and took in the front of The Coffee Spot. Although the building wobbled slightly from side to side, Daisy smiled.

“It looks exactly how I pictured it,” she said, proud that her voice was calm, although still a little raspy. The doctor had said it would take some time for her trachea to heal. In the meantime, Chris had told her that he thought her husky voice was sexy.

He frowned, eyeing the small structure in front of them. “Kind of a dump?”

“No!” she protested, though she was unable to prevent another laugh from escaping. “It's cute. And cozy. And we should probably go inside before it starts rocking back and forth any more than it already is.”

With a concerned look, he took her arm and escorted her to the door. She didn't mind, since the world seemed steadier when he was touching her. Chris pulled open the door, making the sleigh bells hanging on the inside jangle. As soon as Daisy stepped inside, a shriek like a train whistle came from behind the counter.

Lou hurtled across the shop as the few customers ducked out of her way. “Daisy! You're here!”

Daisy barely had time to brace herself before the other woman plowed into her, hugging her tightly. As air was squeezed out of her lungs, Daisy wondered if allowing Lou to use her gym was the best idea. She was already freakishly strong.

“This is so perfect!” Lou released her and grabbed her hand, towing her to the counter. “Sit! What do you want to drink?”

“Um…” She slid onto a stool, trying to ignore the fascinated stares of the other customers. Eyeing the menu hanging on the wall behind Lou, Daisy hesitated. Her heart rate was picking up again, and she rubbed her damp palms over her thighs.

Stepping behind her, Chris wrapped his arms around her upper chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. Instantly, she relaxed.

“Why does it stink in here?” Chris's chin pressed into her head as he spoke. Once he mentioned it, Daisy noticed the stench of body-odor underlying the more pleasant coffee scent filling the shop.

Lou beamed. “Smelly Jim is back! I've been really worried that something had happened to him, but Jim said he's been, in his words, ‘lying low' until things settled down here. I tried to give him money, to thank him for pulling me and Callum out of the reservoir, but he wouldn't take it. I finally got him to agree to me buying him anything he wants from here. It seems like such a small thing for saving our lives, but he's happy, so I'll quit bugging him about having a parade in his honor. Sorry, Daisy! I'm talking way too much again, but I'm just excited that Smelly Jim's okay. Drink?”

“Not to be boring, but just a regular coffee, please.”

“Good choice,” Chris said.

Lou grabbed a cup. “And you could never be boring.”

“I wouldn't mind a little boring for a while,” Daisy admitted, tracing the edge of the counter with her thumb. “Just going to the grocery store is plenty of excitement for me.”

“Even though I must admit that I miss the whiteboard”—Lou handed her the coffee—“I have to agree with you. Summer's coming, and that means more people on the reservoirs, which means more calls for us. Being on the dive team is enough of a wild ride without throwing arsons and murders into the mix.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, Daisy just made a wordless sound of agreement.

“And what's your beverage of choice, Deputy Chris?” Leaning over the counter, Lou examined him closely. “Your face of many colors is healing up nicely. The bruises have faded to a kind of sickly yellow.” Lou looked back and forth between Chris and Daisy. “You two match. It's cute, in a damaged kind of way.”

He snorted a laugh. “Thank you, I think. And I'll have what she's having.” His chin dug into her scalp again. She didn't mind the pressure. In fact, it was reassuring to be surrounded by Chris.

“So…” As she poured Chris's coffee, Lou looked over her shoulder at Daisy, who was equal parts impressed and worried about her careless handling of a hot beverage. “What's the plan, now that you're out and about?”

Her stomach churned at the question, but it wasn't a bad mix of emotions. There was fear, but also excitement and anticipation. “I'm thinking about opening a gym. A real one, not just the one in my house.”

Thrusting the cup in Chris's direction, Lou grinned. “That would be awesome! This town desperately needs something like that—as you know from all the people who pile into your training room on a regular basis.”

“My dad never let me pay rent, so I have some money saved.” Daisy felt Chris release her and shift away so he could drink his coffee, but she'd calmed enough to not need her safety blanket wrapped around her anymore. The conversation was distracting her, too, and talking about her plans out loud was making her even more enthusiastic about the idea. “I thought I could focus on the self-defense aspect—like boxing, MMA, and Krav Maga—but have some other classes, too, for the…well, less violence-inclined.”

“Belly, the coroner, used to teach yoga.” Ellie slid onto the next stool over, grinning at Daisy's surprised look. “You must not have heard me come in. Lou makes enough noise to drown out the bells on the door.” Laughing, she ducked the cardboard cozy that Lou chucked at her head, reaching up to catch it. “Thanks, Lou. Just don't do that with my latte.”

Turning to grab a cup off the stack, Lou asked, “What was that about Belly and yoga? Those two don't seem to fit together.”

“She used to teach it. When she was in the store the other day, she mentioned it.” Turning to Daisy, Ellie said, “I think she misses it. I bet you could recruit her.”

“Yoga.” After considering the idea for a moment, Daisy nodded. “That'd be good, especially for these muscle-bound guys.” She rotated on her stool so she could squeeze Chris's biceps. Grinning, he obediently flexed. “Need to keep them flexible.”

For some reason, that sent Lou and Ellie into a giggle-fest. “Flexible is good,” Lou said, once she could speak again.

“I'm feeling a little too testosterone-heavy to be a part of this conversation.” Chris bent and pressed a kiss to the top of Daisy's head. “I'm going to run a couple of errands.” He gave her a questioning look, and she nodded, answering his unspoken question of whether she'd be okay without him for a little while.

The other customers had busied themselves with their phones and conversations, so she was feeling less like a zoo exhibit and more like a normal woman having coffee with her friends.

“See you later.” She smiled at him, and his eyes darkened before he kissed her again, this time on the mouth. It was short, but intense, kicking up her heart rate just as she'd gotten it under control.

“I won't be long. Half hour, tops.” He continued to hesitate while watching her carefully.

“Sounds good.” When he still didn't move, she made shooing motions with her hands. “Now go, so we can discuss you and your buddies.”

That must have proven to him that she'd be fine, since he grinned at her and headed for the door. As she turned back toward the other women, she saw Lou was frowning as she watched Chris through the front window.

“How's he been?” Lou asked, her eyes still on Chris as he got into his truck. “He seems…sad.”

Before she answered, Daisy took a moment to consider how he really was. “It's going to take a while, I think, before he's back to his usual level of happy. Until the whole mess exploded, he really admired…his boss.”

“Will he run in the emergency sheriff election?” Ellie asked, taking a sip of her latte.

Daisy shook her head. “Not unless he changes his mind. Chris likes responding to calls and being in the middle of the action. Turning into a paper pusher would drive him insane. Even having off these last couple of weeks during the state investigation is making him twitchy. He's ready to get back out there.”

“Too bad,” Lou said, spinning a plastic cup lid on the counter. “He'd have made a good sheriff.”

Just the word “sheriff” made her skin clammy, so Daisy turned to Ellie. “How are you doing?” She hadn't gotten a nighttime call from Ellie since before the shooting.

“It seems kind of coldhearted to say.” Ellie bent her head over her latte, absently twirling a stir-stick in it.

“Don't worry about offending
us
,” Lou told her. “I'm the one who referred to a deceased person as Headless Dead Guy, remember? And Daisy's been dating a cop forever. I'm sure she can handle some plain speaking.”

Shooting a wary glance at the other customers, Ellie leaned closer to the two. Lou and Daisy mimicked her until their heads were almost touching. “Ever since the sheriff was killed, and I found out King was dead, I've been so…
relieved
.” She leaned back, leaving Daisy and Lou in their craned-forward positions.

“That's it?” Lou said. “That's your confession?”

Looking uncertain, Ellie nodded. “Well, yeah. Two people are dead, and I'm more relaxed than I've been for months. Isn't that a sign I'm a sociopath?”

Since Ellie asked the question so seriously, Daisy tried to turn the amused sound that came out of her mouth into a cough. “No,” she answered after clearing her throat. “You are definitely not a sociopath. I'd be relieved if the person who'd
shot
me and tried to kill me was dead.”

“Um…” Lou sent her a sideways look. “The person who tried to kill you
is
dead—at least one of them.”

Carefully placing her coffee on the counter, Daisy flattened her shaking hands against her thighs, trying to force them to be still. “I'm glad Tyler's going to be okay…physically, at least.”

“I guess.” The other two looked at Lou, and she grimaced. “I don't wish he were
dead
or anything, but the little brat burned my truck…and my house. Sure, my stalker probably watched him do it and didn't stop him, but Tyler confessed to being the one who lit the match.”

“Why'd he go after you? It's a ways out to your place—how'd he even get there?” Daisy asked.

“Apparently,” Lou said, still sounding bitter, “he didn't like that I was investigating Willard Gray's murder. He thought he was protecting his dad. And he's known how to drive since he was thirteen. He stole his dad's truck to drive out to my place. That's how he got out to set the wildland fires, too.”

“Wow.” Daisy shook her head. “I'm not sure why I'm surprised, though. He did burn
and
try to blow up mine. He thought he was helping his dad, but there are still some pretty big chunks missing from the kid's moral framework. Deputy Macavoy's parents filed a missing-person report, and no one is optimistic about finding him alive. They're looking into his mom's disappearance, too.”

“Tyler's mom?” Lou asked. “I thought she left them voluntarily.”

Pity for the kid rushed through Daisy, almost smothering the anger toward him. “There's no proof she didn't, but Rob walked in on his wife abusing Tyler. After that, no one saw her again. It's enough that the BCA is checking into it.”

“How sad,” Ellie sighed.

Lou made a sound of agreement. “Who told you that?”

“Strepple,” Daisy said. “He called to update me on the investigation.”

“Where'd they take Tyler?” Ellie asked.

“A psych facility outside of Denver.”

Ellie's eyebrows rose. “Which one?”

“I'm not sure,” Daisy answered with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. Strepple didn't share that. Chris's been trying to protect me from knowing details about the case. It's a good thing I've started leaving the house, or I wouldn't know
anything
.”

At that, Lou growled, “Seriously? Why would he think that would help? It makes me nuts not to know stuff.”

“Me too. Even my dad is acting all protective, and that's not like him.”

“He's still staying with you at Chris's?” At Daisy's nod, Lou scrunched her nose. “Doesn't that get in the way of you and Chris…?” Trailing off, she waved a hand.

“Talking?” Daisy guessed, widening her eyes with mock-innocence.

“No.”

“Watching movies?”

“No.”

“Cooking brownies together?”

Cocking her head to the side, Lou looked thoughtful. “I guess that could be one euphemism for it.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose. “No. No, it can't.”

Finally breaking down with a laugh, Daisy admitted, “Yes, when Dad sits on the couch between us, glaring at Chris, it does get in the way of me and Chris”—she imitated Lou's wave—“cooking brownies. Literally in the way. It's just temporary, though. Dad'll be heading out to another job site soon, and he'll find another place in Simpson. Chris's already bugging me to move in with him permanently.”

“Are you going to stay?” Lou asked.

“Yes.” Living with Chris was pretty much as wonderful as she'd thought it would be.

“Oh!” Ellie slapped her non-latte-holding hand on the counter, startling Daisy. “Speaking of fathers, guess who called me last night?” Positively beaming, she answered her own question before either of the other two could guess. “Dad!”