She booted up her laptop. After deleting a few junk emails, she opened up an Internet browser. Only two minutes later, she shut down her computer, unable to sit still.

Checking the clock on the desk, she groaned. It wasn't even one yet, and it felt like an entire week had gone by since Chris had left to help Lawrence with the missing tire cover. He'd called her after he'd gotten off work, but he'd been distracted, so they'd ended the call shortly after she'd confirmed that she was doing fine.

Daisy wandered into the training room. Friday was officially her rest day, but she figured it could still be considered Thursday night, if she really wanted to lie to herself. She jumped and grabbed the pull-up bar, swinging back and forth like a kid on the monkey bars. When her hands started to sting from the friction, she lifted her legs up and over the bar, releasing the grip of her fingers so she hung upside-down by her knees.

Her spine popped as she dangled from the bar, and she thought of how different the room looked from her inverted position. When her face burned from too much blood flowing into it and her eyes felt like they were about to pop out of her head, she swung back and forth, flipping her legs off of the bar to land on her feet. Unfortunately, she couldn't stick the landing, and she fell back on her b.u.t.t with a grunt.

Glad that she didn't have an audience for that ungraceful maneuver, she scrambled to her feet and headed for the treadmill. If she didn't do something physical, she was going to lose the battle raging in her head, run to the door, and fasten every single lock, erasing all of her progress.

As she settled into her warm-up jog, she thought about how Lou had mentioned at their last training session that she wanted to set up Daisy with a fireman named Steve. The thought of dating someone hadn't really occurred to her, except for her daydreams about Chris during unguarded moments. Lou's mention of the fireman, though, had her actually considering the idea.

The thought of dating a stranger made her stomach churn with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She tried to picture someone next to her on the couch while they watched a movie, or someone across from her at the dining room table as just the two of them shared a meal, or someone next to her in bed... Her insides clenched, and she shoved the last thought away. Even considering it felt like cheating.

Daisy growled as she increased the treadmill's speed, annoyed that she couldn't even think about dating someone who wasn't Chris without feeling guilty. They were only friends-friends who, up until a week or so ago, hardly even touched in a friendly way.

After they'd talked about her mom, though, Chris had touched her...a lot. Daisy reminded herself sharply not to read too much into the hugs and pats and knee-squeezing. They were still strictly friends, just huggier than they had been, and she was asking for awkwardness and long absences if she tried to push them into more.

Even her father didn't want to be in the same house with her, so Daisy wasn't sure why anyone else would, either.

"Stop," she said out loud, annoyed with her angst and self-pity. She hit the b.u.t.ton to increase the speed several times, until all she could think about was moving her feet and trying to breathe.

Working out killed an hour of the endless night, and a shower used up another twenty minutes by the time she was moisturized and dressed. She was exhausted, having finally crashed from her adrenaline surge, so she decided to attempt sleeping.

"This is probably a bad idea," she muttered, pulling down the covers. She stared at the sheet-covered mattress for a while, but she just couldn't bring herself to lie down. As much as she longed for sleep, to be unconscious and oblivious until she woke refreshed in time for Chris's six a.m. breakfast visit, Daisy knew it wasn't going to happen. With a sigh, she headed for the window seat.

The second she sat, she was tempted to pop right back up again. Irritation with her restlessness kept her in place. Automatically, she checked each house across the street for any signs of movement. Ian and Rory's house was dark, with no light peeking around the shutters. Daisy couldn't remember if Ian was on duty or not. There was a rea.s.surance to the idea that Ian and Rory were sleeping across the street, so she decided to pretend that Ian had the night off, and his house was not as empty as it looked.

The Storvicks' was almost equally dark, except for the dimmest glow from the younger daughter's bedroom. She always slept with a night-light. Corbin's computer must have been off or sleeping, since his window was pitch-black.

Almost reluctantly, Daisy shifted her gaze to number 304. Now that she knew there was blood in the living room, the building felt almost menacing. Had it really been a body Macavoy had been hauling out of the house that early, early morning? Was that where the blood had come from? If so, who was the poor dead person?

Her brain spun. No wonder Lou needed a whiteboard or an oversized pad of paper to organize her facts and theories. Keeping everything in her head was overwhelming and confusing. Daisy felt like she was thinking the same thoughts, the same questions, over and over. She looked at her phone where it was sitting quietly on her nightstand, and she was tempted to call someone.

Ellie had said she had trouble sleeping, but only when George was on a search and rescue call. Daisy had no way of knowing when and if he'd be gone, and she didn't want to wake up anyone in the middle of the night. Just because she couldn't sleep didn't mean she should share her misery.

An odd glow in one of the upper windows of the vacant house caught her attention. She stared, thinking she had imagined it at first, but then it got stronger. The light reminded her of the Storvick girl's night-light, just a muted illumination that was almost lost in the ambient light from the streetlamps.

The color was more orange than the night-light, though, almost an eerie red. Scooting closer to the window, Daisy stared at the odd glow, trying to puzzle out the source. It wasn't right for a flashlight, although it might be if someone had a hand in front of the beam.

Although she didn't want to take her eyes off the mysterious light, she needed to let someone know about it. She jumped off the window seat, grabbed her cell phone, and returned. Instead of sitting, she put one knee on the cushions and leaned forward.

The light was brighter, flickering and dancing, and Daisy sucked in a breath as she recognized the motion.

Fire.

The house was on fire. Fumbling a little, she pulled up the screen, planning to dial 9-1-1...but then she hesitated. If Libby or another dispatcher wanted her to talk to the sheriff before they sent the call to the fire department, the house could be burnt to the ground before anyone with hoses arrived. Instead, she pulled up her contacts and tapped on Ian's number.

The ringing felt like it continued forever, and she wanted to cry when Ian's recorded voice told her to leave a message. "Hi, Ian, it's Daisy. The white house that's for sale-the place two down from yours?-is on fire. I'm going to call Rory. Oh, it's about two forty-five in the morning."

She ended the call and called Rory. This time, there were only three rings before she answered. Although the other woman's voice was a little gravelly, she sounded surprisingly alert, considering the time. "Daisy. What's wrong?"

"The house across the street is on fire."

Daisy heard a sucked-in breath. "Ian's house?"

"No." Even though Rory couldn't see her, Daisy shook her head. "Sorry. No. It's number 304. I see flames in the upstairs window."

"Anyone inside?"

"I don't think so."

"Did you call Dispatch?"

"No. The sheriff-" Daisy cut herself off. It would take too long to explain, and the orange-and-red flickering was getting brighter. "I'll explain later. Can you call it in?"

"I'm on it." When Rory's voice came again, it was muted, like her head was turned away from the phone. Daisy figured she was giving the information to Dispatch over her radio. "Daisy?"

"Yes?"

"Libby's sending out the call. I'm at the shop, so I'm going to grab my gear and head out, but Ian and the other guys should beat me there. We'll get there soon, okay?"

"Okay." Daisy wasn't sure why she was shaking. It wasn't like she was the one who'd be fighting the fire. "Thanks, Rory."

"Thank you, Daisy, for spotting it."

It was terrible, watching the flames get brighter as she sat there and did nothing. She couldn't take it any longer, so she focused her gaze on her phone. Chris would want to know, she decided, so she tapped his number. Like Rory, he answered quickly and sounded wide awake.

"Daisy. What's going on?"

"Hey, Chris. Sorry to wake you, but the house with the blood is on fire." She lowered her forehead to her palm. She'd been halfway coherent when she'd talked to Rory, so why had she gone into babbleland as soon as Chris picked up the phone?

"What? Did you call Dispatch?" he asked.

"No, because of the whole sheriff thing, but I got ahold of Rory, and she called it in." She heard the faint wail of sirens. "I hear them coming."

"Good. That was smart." His last words were m.u.f.fled, and the phone crackled.

"Chris? Are you still there?"

"I'm here." The line sounded clear again. "I'm getting dressed. I'll call you when I'm in the squad, okay?"

"Okay."

The call ended, and she was back to being useless as the house burned. She looked away from the flames, trying to see if the fire had spread, but the other windows still looked dark. A shadow shifted on the far side of the house, grabbing her attention. She stared at the trees, trying to catch any other movement, but everything was still.

Deciding that it must have been her imagination, she returned her gaze to the glowing window. The sirens were getting louder, and the first engine turned into view, its flashing overhead lights blinding. To her relief, they cut the sirens as they pulled up in front of number 304.

The truck had barely stopped before three firefighters jumped out of the cab. Daisy recognized Ian, but the other two men were unfamiliar. They all seemed to know their individual tasks and moved with quick efficiency.

Lights turned on in the Storvicks' house. A second engine arrived, as well as a smaller truck. Daisy's cell phone rang in her lap, making her jump and hit her nose against the window. The screen showed it was Chris calling.

"Ow. Hi."

"Are you hurt?"

"No." Her voice sounded a little nasally as she rubbed the throb out of her nose. "Just b.u.mped the gla.s.s. I'm fine. Fire's here."

"Good. I'm less than a minute out." His words were clipped like they got when he was in cop mode. "Did you see anyone in the house before the fire started?"

"No, but I thought I saw something moving by the far side of the house right after I called you. It could've been anything."

"I'll check it out." His squad flew around the corner and stopped abruptly in front of her house. Daisy hurried downstairs, but he was already knocking by the time she reached the door. After she pushed the unlock b.u.t.ton, she opened the inner door, focusing on Chris's large form rather than the gaping hole letting in the flashing lights from outside.

As he'd done before, he moved her bodily out of the way before closing the interior door. "It still blows my mind when you do that, Dais." His crisp cop-voice had softened. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

His eyes did their own check, quickly sweeping her from head to feet. "Good. Show me where you saw the movement."

She hurried upstairs, Chris following close behind, and led him through her bedroom to the window seat. The area lights mounted on one of the fire trucks had been raised and illuminated, so the entire property was almost as bright as it would've been in daylight. "It was on the far side of the house, next to that squatty-looking pine tree. I just caught a flicker in the corner of my eye, so it could've been my imagination."

"Worth checking it out." He headed toward the bedroom door. "Call if you need anything."

"Okay," she agreed, although she wasn't sure what she might need while the neighbors' house was on fire. She watched him leave, thinking of how strange it was to not follow him. Since he was capable of closing the interior door, and the outer one locked on its own, she wasn't needed for exits anymore. The change was equal parts freeing and terrifying.

While Chris had been distracting Daisy, Rory had arrived and was talking to the firefighter in the white helmet. From the way he was shouting orders and gesturing, Daisy guessed he was Chief Early. They'd gotten the front door open somehow, and Ian and another fireman-masks covering their faces and oxygen tanks strapped to their backs-were hauling hoses inside.

Rory was working on something by one of the engines, although she kept glancing at the entrance where Ian had just disappeared. Daisy tried to imagine watching Chris walk into a burning building, and her stomach cramped at the thought. Although she knew that his job was dangerous, it would be so much harder to actually watch him in action. Her gaze found her deputy making his way around the trucks and firefighters to the far side of the yard.

She watched Chris examine the area, squatting down at one point next to the pine tree she'd indicated. There was a flash of light in front of him, and she was confused for a second before she figured out that he was taking pictures. Another Field County squad pulled up behind the one already parked in front of Daisy's house, and the sheriff climbed out of the driver's seat.

After scanning the scene, he strode over to where the man Daisy presumed was Chief Early directed the other firefighters. The two spoke briefly before the sheriff's head snapped in Chris's direction. When Coughlin started toward where the deputy was still taking pictures, Daisy hurried to tap out a text to Chris, letting him know that the sheriff was headed his way.

Even though his back was toward her, Daisy knew when he read the text, since he turned around and waited for the sheriff to reach him. Despite the distance between Chris and her viewing perch, she could tell that his entire body was tense.

Their conversation was short, and it ended with Chris retracing his steps around the firefighters toward her house. After a cursory look around the area Chris had been examining, the sheriff returned to the fire chief's side.

Although Chris was clearly stalking toward her front door, Daisy was reluctant to stop watching the activity outside long enough to run downstairs and let him in. She knew she wasn't helping, but it still felt like she'd be abandoning the firefighters if she looked away for even a second.

Tamping down that illogical compulsion, she forced herself to tear her gaze from the window and hurry down the stairs. Even competing with all the other noise from outside, Chris's knock was loud.

Daisy pushed the b.u.t.ton and opened the inside door. By the time the night was over, she figured she'd be completely comfortable with seeing the open exterior door.

Well, at least more comfortable.

"What's up?"

Apparently, she wasn't the only one becoming accustomed to her newfound bravery, since he didn't pick her up and move her out of the way that time. Instead, he stepped around her as he entered, allowing her to close the door on her own.

"I've been grounded," he gritted, heading for the stairs.

"Grounded?" Daisy followed him to her bedroom, where he alternated between pacing and watching out the window. Unwilling to give up her view, she ducked under the arm he'd braced against the wall and reclaimed her spot on the window seat. Chris didn't seem to notice and just watched the scene below them over her shoulder.

"Sent away like a kid who was acting up. I managed to get a few pictures of a partial shoe print in the mud by that tree you pointed out before Rob arrived. Good thing, too, since he ordered me back here after a verbal spanking."

"But..." With an effort, Daisy looked away from the hole being chopped in the roof of the burning house and focused on Chris's profile. "That makes no sense. You're just doing your job."

"Trying to, at least." His jaw muscles were flexing again. "He's got to be protecting Macavoy. I just don't get why he's covering for someone he's known less than a year. Blackmail, maybe? Could Macavoy have some kind of dirt on Rob?"

Turning her attention back to the window, she watched the action blindly as her thoughts spun on the hamster wheel. "We just a.s.sumed it was Macavoy because of the way he quit and ran. What if it wasn't? What if it's someone else?"

In her peripheral vision, Daisy saw him turn his head so he could look at her. "But he admitted to Rob that...s.h.i.t."

As she met his gaze, she saw the dawning horror in his face. "Did you ever talk to Macavoy about it before he quit?"

"No." He shook his head, as if to deny the suspicions that had just popped into his brain.

Daisy hesitated before asking, "Is the sheriff close with any of the other deputies?"

His laugh had a bitter edge. "If you'd asked me that last week, I would've answered, 'me.' Rob's pretty remote. He keeps his work and personal lives separate."

"Who are his friends, then, off the department?" she asked. "Do you know?"

Shaking his head, he moved away from the window and started pacing again.

"This is small-town, gossip-fueled Simpson," she said when he didn't respond. "Someone has to know the sheriff's personal friends."

"I don't think he has any." When he reached her bed, he pivoted and reversed his course back to the window. "He works such long hours that he doesn't even have time for his son."

Remembering Tyler's comment about his dad not teaching him to drive, she grimaced in sympathy. "Poor kid. What about a girlfriend?" When Chris shook his head again, she made a sound of frustration. "Isn't there anyone he gets along with?"

Instead of answering, he paced in silence for a few minutes. "This isn't like Rob," he finally burst out, startling Daisy. "I've worked with him for over eight years. He's not-" Chris cut off his words as he made another pa.s.s across her bedroom. "He's one of the good guys."

Daisy hadn't gotten a good-guy vibe off the sheriff, but she kept that to herself. "We're just speculating," she said instead. "You know him much better than I do. What is your gut telling you about how he's been acting?"

He finally came to a halt behind her. Craning her neck, Daisy watched him settle his shoulder against the wall so he could stare out the window over her head.

"He's been...strange. Distracted. Evasive." Pausing, Chris let out a deep breath, sagging a little harder against the wall. He looked tired. "Acting like he's hiding something."

Reaching behind her, she caught his hand and pulled it over her shoulder so she could hold it. "Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out." She injected as much confidence as she could into her words.

He shifted so he was standing close enough for her to feel his body heat against her back. Holding her breath, she eased back the half inch it took to make contact. When he didn't move away from her, she exhaled and leaned a little harder against him. Instead of jerking back, he wrapped his free arm around her upper chest. Despite her worry about what was going on outside, she was glad to be in his arms. Being held against Chris always made her feel so safe, even as the fire raged across the street.

They stayed like that, silently watching, until the firefighters put away their hoses and someone pounded on Daisy's front door.