The books only held her interest long enough to pull them out of the box and stack them on her desk. Buzzing with energy from the whole Chris thing, she decided she needed to do something more active. Since she’d already worked out very, very early that morning, exercising twice in one day would reveal her to be the training-obsessed person she was. Besides, it was officially supposed to be her rest day.
“Rest day, schmest day,” she muttered, and then laughed at her immature pouting. The training group was coming as usual the next day for their Saturday session, so Daisy figured she should probably clean the equipment in preparation for that. She walked into the gym, groping for the light switch next to the door. Ever since that strange night when she’d thought she’d heard someone in the house, the windowless training room had seemed almost menacing, especially when it was dark and she was alone.
She paused with her finger on the switch, feeling the usual prickle of unease as she glanced around the heavily shadowed room. Although she told herself she was being silly, a part of her didn’t want to stay in the gym.
“I’ll just grab some water first,” she said, knowing it was just a stall. Leaving the room in darkness, she headed for the kitchen. Once in the doorway, she stopped, her nose wrinkling. Something was wrong. There was a bad smell, one that made alarm bells go off in her brain.
It was gas.
Chapter 18
Hurrying toward the stove, she checked all the burners, but they were solidly in the “off” position. The odor was stronger there. Daisy looked more closely at the stove, but everything appeared normal. Her appliance knowledge was pretty much limited to turning things on and calling a repair person if it stopped working, so she wasn’t sure if she’d even recognize the problem if she saw it. She definitely wouldn’t know how to fix it.
“Think, Daisy. Think.” She tried, but all that came into her head was the exploding-house scene from a movie she’d seen with Chris the week before. “Okay. I need to stop the gas. There has to be a main valve that’ll turn it off. Where would that be?”
As she searched inside the cabinets on either side of the oven, she continued her monologue. Talking kept her breathing without hyperventilating. When she couldn’t find any gas valve around the stove, though, she felt her heart start beating double-time.
“Next step.” It was harder to smell the gas, but she figured that was just her nose getting tired, rather than the leak stopping. “Okay. I need help.”
Pulling out her phone, she retreated to the living room and then continued all the way up the stairs. She figured it would probably be best to get as far away from the gas leak as possible, since breathing the fumes couldn’t be good. Neither could getting blown up, but she couldn’t start thinking about that, or she’d be too scared to function.
Her fingers shook as she tapped at her phone, but she managed to call Chris on her first try.
“Hey.” Instead of his usual casual friendliness, his tone was warmer, more intimate. If there hadn’t been such a strong likelihood of her house exploding in the immediate future, she would’ve taken a moment to revel in it.
“Hi. How do I stop a gas leak?”
“Gas leak?” The boyfriendy tone changed to his cop voice. “From the stove?”
“I think so. It smells the strongest there.”
“Can you hear it escaping?”
She thought back, but all she remembered hearing was the thunder of her heartbeat. “No. I can just smell it.”
“Have you turned off the main supply valve?”
“I can’t find it.” Her voice shook, and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to regain her calm—or at least the illusion of it. Hysterics were not going to help the situation.
He swore, making her jump. He hardly ever cursed in front of her, so he had to be freaked out. “It’s probably outside. Okay, Dais. I’m going to relay this to Dispatch. Don’t call anyone else. I don’t want you using your cell.”
Her hand tightened around the phone. She hadn’t thought about her cell triggering an explosion. It suddenly felt like she had a stick of lit dynamite in her hand. Shoving the thought away, she forced herself to focus on what Chris was saying.
“Don’t turn on any lights or start a fire or anything.”
Despite the situation, she gave a strangled laugh. “I’m not going to start any fires, Chris.”
Her sarcasm flew right over his head. “Good. I’m on my way, but I’m at least twenty minutes out. I had to serve papers at a place south of Liverton, and I just left. Open all your windows, and I’ll call this in. Fire will be there in five minutes—less if Ian and Rory are home.”
“I can’t open the windows,” she said quietly, but Chris was already gone. She stared at the phone for a moment, tempted to put it somewhere far away from her body, but she didn’t want to lose her only line of communication with the outside world. Tucking it back in her pocket as gingerly as if it were a bomb, she turned to face her bedroom window.