She hadn’t expected the question, even though it seemed to be a common assumption, at least amongst that day’s visitors. “No. We’re friends, but it’s not…romantic.”
When the sheriff eyed her for a long moment, Daisy felt her cheeks get hot. She was annoyed at herself for blushing, since it probably made Coughlin think she was lying about not being involved with Chris. Shaking off both the embarrassment and the self-directed irritation, she told herself that, even if they had been dating, it wasn’t the sheriff’s business.
“When I was in my room,” she said, hoping to change the subject, “I saw a marked sheriff’s department SUV in front of 304, that house that’s for sale.”
“Did you see the squad number on the back?”
She shook her head, regretting her silly backward lunge once again. “No. It was parked with the front end facing the Storvicks’ house, and I…uh, wasn’t watching when he drove away.”
“He? So you saw the driver?”
“I did, but he had his coat hood up, so I couldn’t see his face.”
“You’re sure the person was male?”
“Yes. I had a weird angle, watching from the upstairs window, but I’m pretty sure he was tall and big.”
“Big?”
Under the sheriff’s unwavering gaze, Daisy found herself shifting from foot to foot. Once she realized she was fidgeting, she forced herself to stop. “His coat was too bulky to really see his shape, but he wasn’t a skinny guy.”
“What did you see him doing that made you think it wasn’t a routine call?”
“Well, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. And he was carrying something over his shoulder that was wrapped in a tarp.” She paused. It was one thing to sound crazy when she was talking to Chris or even to Lou, but telling the sheriff was a whole different matter. “The shape of it and the way it moved, especially when he dropped it into the back of the SUV, reminded me of a…um, a body.”
The sheriff stared at her silently. She couldn’t read his expression, and his silent regard made her nervous enough to drop her gaze to the tile floor.
“A body,” he finally repeated, his voice flat.
“Yes.” Dredging up her conviction, she met his eyes. “Especially when a boot fell out of the bottom of the tarp.”
Daisy desperately wished she could tell what he was thinking, but the sheriff had that impassive look down pat.
“What kind of boot?”
It was only after she sucked in air that she realized she’d been holding her breath during the silence. “It was black, or maybe just dark-colored.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture it lying on the packed snow that covered the road. “I’m pretty sure it was a man’s boot because of the size.”
“Can you show me where you were standing when you saw this?”
“Sure.” She pushed away from the counter and led the way through the living room and up the stairs. It made her neck prickle to have a near stranger following her, even if he was the sheriff. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder at him a few times. He looked around as they walked through the house, and his sharp gaze seemed to take in every detail.
When their silent train of two finally reached her bedroom, Coughlin moved around her and stepped toward the window. Daisy lowered her shoulders from where they’d been hunched around her ears, relieved to have his focus on something other than her.
She stood next to him, keeping as much distance as she could without seeming weird—or weirder. Despite his poker face, Daisy was pretty sure the sheriff thought she was an odd duck.
“The squad was parked there,” she said, pointing at the spot on the street. “The deputy walked between the empty house and the Storvicks’, carrying the bod—uh, the large thing.”
“Deputy?” He turned his head to look at her. “I thought you couldn’t see the person’s face. Do you suspect anyone in particular?”
“No. I don’t know any of the deputies—just Chris. He showed me a picture, and the only ones I could really rule out were the two women and a couple of skinny guys. Chris said one was…um…” She tried to remember his name. “Deputy Lorenzo?”
“Deputy Lawrence?”
“That’s it!”
“Why do you think it’s a deputy, then?”
“Because of the SUV?” It seemed so obvious to her, but just his asking the question made her doubt her logic. “Chris said it could be anyone who had temporary access to a squad car, but it just made sense that someone driving a sheriff’s department vehicle would be a deputy. Oh, and Chris said the boot prints matched his.”
“Deputy Jennings is right about the squad.” The sheriff returned his gaze to the poorly lit scene in front of them. “If we start making assumptions, we could miss the truth just because it doesn’t fit into the too-small box we’ve created.”
She felt slightly chastised, although she did like the “we” he’d used. It made her feel included in the investigation. “I have a video of him on my phone. It’s not very clear, but you’re welcome to take a look at it.”