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.”