Search And Rescue: In Safe Hands Part 8

In a flare of defensive irritation, she snapped, "What does it matter, since I'm already crazy?"

There was another silence, which was finally broken by Chris's sigh. "No, you're not."

She rubbed her forehead with a hand that shook. "What do you call not being able to leave the house? I'm not exactly rational." Although she didn't mention it, it didn't seem exactly stable to mentally turn a pile of junk into a dead body, either. Maybe she was getting worse.

Instead of countering her argument, Chris suggested, "Why don't you think about starting therapy again?"

"That didn't work out so well."

"Tell Gabe he can't sleep with the new one. In fact, you can just remove all hot shrink temptation altogether and do sessions via video on your laptop."

The thought of talking about the worst day of her life with a stranger, of admitting all her illogical yet overwhelming fears, made her wince. "I'll think about it," she lied, just so he'd drop it.

"Really think about it." Okay, so he wasn't going to drop it. "Rob said he was concerned about you, about what would happen if you were ever in a situation where you had to leave the house, and I agree with him. Daisy, you pa.s.sed out when you just looked at the open door. Going on as you've been living isn't making you better."

It wasn't anything she didn't know, but it still tore up her insides to hear him talk about it. She opened her mouth to say something-she wasn't sure what-but then closed it again. If she spoke, he'd be able to tell that she was crying.

"Daisy? Dais?" She'd been quiet too long, apparently. "I don't want to hurt you, but I think you're cheating yourself by not getting help. You're-"

She couldn't listen to him any longer. Moving the phone away from her ear, Daisy ended the call. She just held the phone in front of her for a while, watching as the screen went blank. When it rang in her fingers, she jumped and then turned off the cell and left it on the kitchen counter.

Swiping at her wet cheeks, she blew out a breath. After a few more inhales, the shakiness disappeared, and she was able to stop crying. She left the phone where it was and went to go beat up Max.

It was amazing how violence could make her feel so much better. After abusing Max, she spent some time practicing with the heavy bag and the speed bag, then hopped on the treadmill for forty minutes. Afterward, she felt sweaty, disgusting, and much calmer-even a little sheepish about the way she'd hung up on Chris.

Daisy showered and then retrieved her phone, her finger hesitating over the "on" b.u.t.ton. With a sigh, she figured she should just get it over with, so she turned on the cell. Once it came back to life, she saw that she had a dozen messages. The single one from Lou stood out amongst the eleven left by Chris. Like the chicken she was, Daisy listened to Lou's first.

"Hey, Daisy! It's Lou. I'm just checking to see if we're still on for tomorrow. I hope so, since I am so excited about learning to kick some...hang on. I'll be with you in a moment! Gotta go-customers." The way Lou growled the word made Daisy smile. "Let me know if anything changes. Otherwise I'll see you tomor- Just a minute! I'll be right there to take your order!" Her voice dropped to a mutter. "Seriously? They can't wait two seconds for their lattes? I tell you what, Daisy-I'm going to have some major aggression to work out tomorrow, so you'd better hope we don't get paired up. Otherwise, it's pow! And wham! And-Coming! Jeez Louise, Callum isn't the only one who needs to learn patience. See you tomorrow!"

Daisy was laughing by the time Lou's message ended, making it easier to listen to Chris's. All of his were short, consisting of some variation of "Dais. Call me." With a grimace, she tapped his name on her screen. He answered after a single ring.

"Daisy. Finally."

"Hey, Chris. Sorry I hung up on you earlier, but I really don't want to talk about that anymore."

"Fine." His heavy exhale was audible. "Just don't turn off your phone like that. What if you needed to call for help?"

"Then I'd turn it back on?"

She was pretty sure that was a growl she heard. "What if I needed to reach you urgently?"

"Okay, Chris. I promise I won't turn it off because I'm in a snit."

"Thank you." He paused for a few seconds. "You okay?"

Daisy felt a small surge of irritation. It felt like he was always asking her that. "Yes. I a.s.saulted Max and took a shower, so I feel much better."

"Good." There was another un-Chris-like hesitation. "Can I do anything for the training tomorrow? Maybe pick up some things on my way to your house?"

"Since you're the one doing the training, I think your contribution is big enough without supplying snacks."

"Okay." This time, the silence stretched until she checked to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. "Do you need anything?"

"Some strong sedatives, if you don't stop treating me like your invalid aunt." She immediately felt bad about her sharpness. "No, Chris. I'm stocked like a good prepper. Dad could stay away for another six months, and I'd still have enough to eat." She'd be out of chocolate long before then, though, and that could lead to severe crankiness.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye." The word was more of a sigh. This Chris was nowhere near as fun to talk to as her friend used to be before some alien performed a personality transplant on him.

"Gabe," Rob called over the construction noise. "Got a minute?"

Gabe Little scowled. "No. Not after your deputy wasted my entire morning."

Raising his eyebrows, Rob waited.

"Chris Jennings called me and told me Daisy needed me at home." His frown deepened with each word. "Thought she was in trouble or something. When I drove all the way home, she was fine. Said she had no idea why Jennings dragged me to Simpson. I ended up turning around and driving right back to Connor Springs. What a waste of time."

"Hmm..." Rob was beginning to realize just how attached Chris was. He should've known something was up when Jennings bought a new grappling dummy for the department, when their "old" one had barely been used a year. "Sorry you were inconvenienced, but I have to admit that I'm concerned about Daisy, as well."

"What?" His surly expression faded, and concern seeped into his tone. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Has she shown any signs of improvement since her mother...pa.s.sed? Any attempts at leaving the house?"

The final traces of annoyance disappeared as Gabe deflated, sitting heavily on a concrete block. "Not really. She had a therapist for a while, but that didn't...well, it didn't pan out."

"Why not?"

Guilt flashed over Gabe's expression, and the defensive scowl returned. "What's this all about, Sheriff?"

"Like I told you," Rob said evenly, allowing sympathy to color his voice, "I'm concerned. What would happen if there was a structure fire? Or if she was injured or ill, and no one could get to her?"

Holding his hands palms-up in a gesture of helpless anger, Gabe demanded, "You think I don't ask myself those questions every day? You think I don't worry about her in that house?"

"I know you do," Rob said soothingly. "I'm a father, too. I understand about worrying all the time. I'm not here to add to your problems. I'm here to offer to help-as much as I'm able, at least."

Gabe slumped, and Rob knew he had him. "Thanks, Sheriff. Sorry. It's just...hard."

"I know." Reaching out, Rob clasped the other man's curled shoulder. "If something were to happen, is there any way I could reach her? Is there a key?"

"No." Gabe didn't raise his gaze. "There are too many locks on that inside door. My key chain would look like a janitor's."

Holding back a frustrated scowl, Rob asked, "Is there any other way into the house, any way to get to Daisy if she needed help?"

Gabe started to shake his head but then stopped, his expression brightening. "Yeah, there is. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Rob listened intently, not allowing his satisfaction to show.

Her shaky hands had returned for the stupidest reason.

"Yes?" she said into the intercom mic, glad she could at least keep her voice steady.

"It's me."

"Oh, thank G.o.d! I mean, come on in, Chris." She unlocked the outer door.

Once he was in the kitchen, she realized he hadn't been wearing a coat. "Is spring finally here?"

"For now." He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of dough on a cookie sheet. "Are you making those cheese-and-sausage biscuits?"

"Yes. I forgot to ask if anyone's a vegetarian, so I tried to cover all my bases. There's artichoke dip with chips, hummus with pita squares, these biscuits-even if they are greasy heart attacks waiting to happen-and I wanted to have a vegetable tray, but I only have frozen veggies, and those would be limp and soggy and gross, so I'm thinking about mini-pizzas, but there's only water and coffee to drink, and I-"

"Daisy." He crossed the kitchen and put his hands on her shoulders, the unexpected contact cutting off her flow of words. "Breathe."

"I know." She knew it would make him squirrelly again, but she couldn't help it. Her head dropped forward to rest against his chest. "I'm being an idiot, but this is my first...thing. I haven't even been to a party, or a get-together, or any kind of social gathering in years. I don't know what I'm doing!" The last came out as a wail.

"Dais." He sounded amused. Scowling, she raised her head to check.

"Are you laughing at me?" she demanded.

"No. At least, I'm trying really hard not to."

She smacked him on the upper arm. "I'm having a nervous breakdown, and you think it's hilarious."

"It'll be fine, Dais." He gave her shoulders a pat and then dropped his hands. Daisy tried not to miss the contact. "They're coming to train. They won't be expecting any of this"-he gestured at the array of ingredients she had strewn across the counters-"so they'll appreciate whatever you offer them. Okay?"

Daisy took a deep breath and then let it out. "Okay." She turned back to her biscuit-making. "Why are you here so early anyway? You just about gave me a heart attack, thinking everyone was arriving already when the kitchen looked like this." She gestured at the chaos with her spoon.

He grinned. "Figured you might be freaking out, so I thought I'd get here early and see if you needed help with anything."

"Thanks." She put the cookie sheet in the fridge, along with the remaining dough. "I think I'm good, though. I just need to clean up and calm down."

Chris moved to help. "I saw Lou yesterday when I stopped at the Coffee Spot. She's beyond excited about this."

Daisy laughed as she loaded the dishwasher. Just chatting with Chris was relaxing her. She could almost feel her blood pressure dropping as they worked side by side in easy harmony, as if the argument and subsequent awkwardness of the day before hadn't happened. "I know. She left me a message yesterday."

"Makes me a little nervous," he said, and she looked at him skeptically. Daisy doubted he'd ever been nervous in his life. "They're expecting a lot from this training. Hope I can live up to that."

"Please," she scoffed, smacking him on the rear with the rubber spatula she'd just rinsed. "Don't even pretend to be humble. You just want some ego stroking."

Mouth open, he stared at her. "Did you just spank me with that thing?"

She shrugged. "It was handy."

"You know what else is handy?" He grabbed a wooden spoon off the counter and swung it toward her posterior. Twisting around, she parried with the spatula. They dodged and danced around the kitchen in a kitchen-utensil swordfight. Taking advantage of his superior weapon and Daisy's ill-timed attack of the giggles, Chris drove her back toward the sink. As she tried to hold him off with the spatula in her right hand, she turned the water on with her left and grabbed the spray nozzle.

"Ahh!" Chris yelled, holding up his free hand to ward off the jets of water. "Twenty penalty points for using unauthorized weapons!"

"All kitchen contents and appliances are weapon-use approved. That's the official Swordfight Code Section 136.8." Daisy released the sprayer anyway, since she was laughing too hard to stand up straight.

"Who brings a water sprayer to a spoon fight, anyway?" he teased, pulling at his wet T-s.h.i.+rt. It clung to his sculpted chest in a way that made Daisy glad she'd decided to turn their battle into a water fight.

She pretended to ponder the question. "Um...the winner?"

With a snort, Chris swung the spoon he still held toward her rear, but she dodged easily and pretended to reach for the sprayer again.

"Truce?" Chris wiped a droplet of water from his cheek.

"Truce." Even as she pretended nonchalance, Daisy decided that soaking wet was a good look for Chris...a very good look. As they finished tidying the kitchen, she kept a wary eye out for possible retaliation, but he behaved himself.

As Daisy started the dishwasher, Chris said in a too-casual voice, "Lou also mentioned wanting to talk more about the Willard Gray case with you."

"Okay?" She didn't understand why that merited his odd delivery.

"If you don't want to discuss it with her, she'll understand."

Now Daisy was really confused. "Why wouldn't I want to talk to her about that? It's fun-okay, that sounded weird, since we're talking about some poor murdered guy, but it's interesting. A real-life mystery."

"She could use someone new to bounce ideas off of. I can't talk to her about it, and I think she and Callum are both at the point where they're running around in circles."

She frowned at Chris. "Why are you trying to talk me into this when I already said I'd do it? The cows are in the corral already, cowboy. You can stop the round-up."

He gave an amused snort. "Did you just refer to yourself as a cow?"

Waving that off, she said, "I want to talk to Lou about the Gray case. Why are you being weird?"

"I just didn't want it to, I don't know, stress you out or anything."

"Chris Jennings." Her hands planted on her hips. "Quit treating me like I'm fragile. Don't make me get the spatula."

"Just try it." He smirked. "I'm prepared for your a.s.sault now."

A knock at the door made her fly toward the stairs. "Can you let them in?" she asked over her shoulder. "I have to change."

"Why change?" His gaze ran over her current outfit of yoga pants and a baggy T-s.h.i.+rt. "What you're wearing is fine."

It would take too long to explain the rules of fitness fas.h.i.+on to him, especially since she was fairly fuzzy on them, herself. All she knew was that her clothes were shapeless, smeared with various food items, and smelled like sausage. "Door?"

Although he rolled his eyes, he turned toward the entrance.

"Thank you!" she yelled as she dashed up the stairs.

After a quick change, Daisy hurried out of her bedroom. An attack of nerves. .h.i.t at the top of the stairs, and she came to a screeching halt. Despite no longer smelling like pork products, Daisy regretted not being the one to answer the door. She hovered for a moment before forcing herself to descend to the first level. From the sound of the voices, Chris had already escorted them to the training room, so at least she didn't have to worry about everyone watching her come down the stairs, debutante-style.

The mental image made her giggle, but she cut off her laughter as soon as she heard how nervous she sounded. Not allowing herself to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, she marched through the open gym door.