Page 46 of In Safe Hands

“What?”

“I talked to Rob about yesterday morning.”

“Yeah?” Daisy gave him her full attention.

“Yeah.” Now he wasn’t just serious—he looked positively grim.

“What’d he say about the boot prints?”

Chris started to pace the width of the kitchen. “It was…weird. I figured he’d say he’d been hurrying through the investigation, since he didn’t really believe anyone had been there, so he was trying to pacify you in the quickest way possible.”

“But…” His upheld hand stopped her.

“He shut me down. Wouldn’t discuss it. Point-blank refused to send the fingerprint to the BCA for analysis. He turned it around on me.”

“On you? How?”

“Said I wasn’t thinking clearly when it came to you. He implied that you were… I don’t know, unbalanced or attention-seeking or something.”

At Daisy’s flinch, he took a step closer to her and then stopped, thrusting his hand through his hair and making it stick up even more wildly than normal.

“You know I don’t think that. I know you, Dais. None of the things he was saying were even close to reality, which is what made it so…”

“Weird?” she said softly.

He looked tired. “Weird.”

“So what’s the next step?”

Chris resumed his pacing. “Rob pretty much banned me from having anything else to do with that empty house or any future calls from you.”

Sucking in a harsh breath as the implication hit her, Daisy whispered, “So you can’t visit anymore?”

“No!” He’d been pacing away from her, but he whirled around to face her. “Of course not! Even if he could control who I see in my personal life, I wouldn’t listen to him.”

Her shoulders sagged as the panic drained out of her. The thought of losing Chris had almost brought her to her knees.

Chris was still talking. “If you see that kid again, though, don’t call Dispatch. Call me—I don’t care what time it is—and I’ll have one of the other deputies come out and do a thorough investigation.”

“Why is the sheriff so anti-me? Did he say anything?”

“Not about that.” His face was set in frustrated lines. “I talked to Libby last night, and Rob didn’t mention to her why he wanted a heads-up if you called. She said he’s done that with a couple of other people, but only the real”—his gaze shifted off to the side for a moment, like he was searching for a word with a PG-rating—“dirtbags.”

Squishing up her face, Daisy said, “Well, that makes me feel good.”

“Sorry, Dais.” He moved so he was standing in front of her. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this. It makes me wonder…”

“Wonder?” If he didn’t finish his sentence, she’d die of curiosity.

To her relief, he continued, “If he thinks that Gray’s murderer is with the department.”

Her eyes widened. “The sheriff suspects the killer is a deputy?”

“Possibly. That would explain why Rob’s being so secretive, withholding information from us, like about Baxter Price. After the whole thing with Macavoy’s early morning ‘junk pickup,’ it made me start wondering.”

The thought that she might have witnessed the murderer in action punched her in the stomach. “Do you think Macavoy…?”

“He couldn’t have killed Willard Gray, because he hasn’t been here long enough, but he’s involved somehow. I can’t even talk to him about it, though, since he quit.”