“Yeah.” His gloomy voice made her glance at him. “I can tell that they match my boots.”
Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Which means…what? That you were the one moving a body last night?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dais. You caught me. No, these are about a size or two bigger than mine. Whoever it was walking around out there was wearing department-issued boots.”
“So it was definitely a deputy.”
“Unless someone just happened to get the same brand and style of boots, then yeah.”
“Uh…didn’t we already know that? This guy was driving a squad, after all.”
Reclaiming his phone, Chris started sorting through his photos. “Not necessarily. All someone needed was access and the keys. Could’ve been a family member or a friend of someone on the department. Here.” He handed the phone back to her, a photo of about a dozen people on the screen. “Was the person last night any of these guys?”
She looked at the picture. It must’ve been taken at some sort of training, because they were all in BDUs and tan T-shirts bearing the sheriff’s department logo. Most of them were smiling, although a few had on their tough-guy expressions. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but we can eliminate this guy, this guy, and these two women because of their builds.”
Chris scowled as she pointed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he grumbled, taking his phone again and pocketing it. “It just sucks that you took Lawrence out of the suspect pool. I wouldn’t have minded arresting him.”
Daisy laughed. “Sorry.”
“It’s premature thinking that a crime was committed, though,” Chris warned. “I need to check the call log from last night and this morning to see if there was a legitimate reason for a deputy to be at that house.”
“Not in uniform?” she asked doubtfully.
“There might be a good explanation for that, too.”
She watched as he stared into space, obviously thinking hard. “You think it was something…not good, though.”
“Maybe,” he dodged. “Maybe not. I don’t have enough information to determine that yet.”
“Uh-huh.” Daisy wasn’t convinced. “But your gut tells you it wasn’t just a normal response to a call. I can tell, since you have on your hunter face.”
“My what?” he half laughed, losing the intent expression as he turned to face her.
“Hunter face.” She shrugged. “You get this look, like you’re a wolf about to take down an elk.”
“Right. No more Nature specials for you.”
She made a face at him but let it drop. “What’s the next step?”
“Checking the call log, like I said.” His eyebrows furrowed again as he looked at her, and Daisy met his gaze evenly, hoping she didn’t look as wobbly as she felt. “I’m thinking about asking Lou if she could come over to talk to you.”
“What?” That seemed to come out of the blue. Startled, she dug through her brain to remember what Chris had told her about a Lou. “You mean barista, dive team member, and stalker-killer Lou? Why?”
“That’s the one.” He drummed his fingers against the counter. “Because she’s been looking into Willard Gray’s murder.”
“The guy found in the reservoir? Well,” she corrected herself, wrinkling her nose, “most of him was found in the reservoir, at least.”
“Yeah.”
“Why should Lou come talk to me?”
Chris was still frowning, and his words came after a hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure he should be saying what he was. “I can’t give you details about the case, Dais. I could lose my job.”
“So, you really do think what I saw this morning is related to that Gray guy’s murder?”
“Probably not.”
“But it might be.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he pushed away from the counter and paced the kitchen. “The Gray case has been a complete cluster from the beginning. So many things about it don’t make any sense, and it’s frustrating the hell out of me. Whenever anything strange happens, I find myself trying to link it to the case. I know I’m reaching, but something’s telling me not to blow off what you told me as…” He sent her an odd look, a mix of frustration and guilt.
“As the ravings of a crazy lady?” she finished for him, trying to keep her voice light even as she swallowed back bile.
“No.” He stopped and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, bringing it back to its usual rumpled condition. “No. Dais, you’re not crazy.”
Forcing a laugh, she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s okay, Chris. I know what I am.”
“Dais.”
It was time to change the subject. “Tell Lou she can come over here, if she wants.”
“Daisy.”