“From what you’ve told me, she’ll be fun to talk to, even if we don’t unearth a countywide conspiracy.” She pushed away from the counter, relieved when her legs wobbled a little but held her upright. “Did you want some coffee to take with you?”
He was watching her with a little too much intensity, so she tried to ignore him, moving over to the coffeemaker and holding up a hazelnut cup. “No,” he finally said, sounding defeated. “I’m good.”
They were both quiet as Chris once again donned his boots and coat. He unlocked the interior dead bolts, the heavy clicks loud in the silence, and then stilled, turning to look at her.
“You’re not crazy.”
Although she felt too tired to start the argument again, she couldn’t make the assurances he needed to hear. Instead, she sighed. “See you later, Chris.”
His face grew tight, but he finally turned away. “Bye, Dais.”
After the interior door closed behind him, Daisy stared at it for a long time before moving to engage the locks.
*
Rob gave a grunt of annoyance when his phone started ringing. It always seemed to happen when his hands were full. Leaning forward, he dumped Anderson King’s body onto the rocky ground and then reached for his phone, checking the caller ID before accepting the call.
“Chris,” he greeted.
“Hey, Rob.” A tentative note in his deputy’s voice caught Rob’s attention. “I’ve got a strange question for you. Got a minute?”
Not really. “Sure. What’s up?” Holding his phone in place with his shoulder, Rob took off his backpack and pulled out the bottle of bear bait.
“Was there a call for service at 304 Alpine Lane early this morning?”
Rob froze, the bottle falling from suddenly numb fingers. He had to clear his throat before he was able to speak. “Sorry, reception got bad for a second there. Did you say 304 Alpine?”
“Yeah. It’s the vacant white house that’s been on the market all winter.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “There wasn’t a call there as far as I know. Why do you ask?”
“My friend, Daisy, saw someone out of uniform put something into a squad.” Chris hesitated a moment before he continued. “She thought it looked…suspicious.”
Rob couldn’t breathe.
“She got some video footage of the guy on her phone, but it was pretty dark.”
Video footage? The clamp around his throat tightened.
After a few moments of silence, Chris spoke again. “There was nothing on the call log, but I figured there was some explanation other than…”
“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.