In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(10)

The shift in position startled her, thankfully stopping the flow of tears. She held herself stiffly for a second and then relaxed into his chest, too worn out to fight him. The material of his coat was rough against her damp cheek, but his arms were locked tightly around her, which was nice.

“Dais,” he muttered, using his thumb to wipe the residual wetness from the exposed side of her face.

“Sorry.” Her sigh shuddered with leftover tears. “Thanks for canceling the ambulance.”

His fingers moved to feel the sore spot on the back of her head. The unexpected contact sent a throb of pain through her skull, and she couldn’t help flinching away from his touch.

“I probably shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, his fingers returning to the aching bump. “What if your skull’s fractured?”

“My skull’s not fractured. Ow!” She swatted at his probing hand. “If you don’t stop pushing on it, though, yours might be. Quit it! What are you trying to accomplish by poking at me, anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Thankfully, he stopped. “Just making sure you don’t have brains leaking out or anything.”

“Gross.” She made a face and then tried to stand. As nice as it was to be in Chris’s arms, she didn’t want to be held because he pitied her. “I don’t. My brains are all where they should be, and they’re still greatly superior to whatever’s in your thick skull.”

At first, he resisted letting her go, but then he snorted, and his body relaxed. “Please. We both know that I’m the genius of this operation.” As he climbed to his feet, he helped her stand, as well. She was grateful for his grip on her arms when the room wobbled around her. It quickly straightened, and she stepped back, slipping free of Chris’s hold. After locking the interior door, she moved into the kitchen.

“Hah.” She suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired and would have paid a great deal of money to be able to sit down again. She didn’t trust Chris not to have Libby send the ambulance after all, though, so she feigned nonchalance and leaned against the counter, letting it support a good portion of her weight. “My brain would totally kick your brain’s ass in a death match.”

The worried crease between his eyebrows eased slightly. “Would not.”

“Would too.”

“Not.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Whatever, Einstein. Tell me what you found.”

“Found?”

Gesturing in the general direction of the street, she prompted, “At 304? Oh, and what’d you say to Corbin? Did you see him sprint for the house when he saw you? That boy did something naughty.”

Instead of answering, he eyed her searchingly. “We can talk about this later.”

“Oh, no way, Jose! I could barely wait until you got back, as evidenced by…” She trailed off, waving toward the door. “If you drag this out any longer, I’ll…well, I’ll think of something bad to do to you. So, spill.”

After another few seconds, he caved, digging his phone out of his coat pocket. “Fine. Here. You can check out the prints while I take off my boots.”

Not wanting to leave the support of the counter—since she had a feeling it was the only thing keeping her upright—Daisy held out her hand for the phone. With a shrug, he tossed it to her.

“Ack!” She fumbled but managed to catch it between her palms before it could fall onto the tile. “Careful, there. Don’t you think one falling object a day is enough?”

He returned to the entryway and pulled off his boots. “I was testing your reflexes.”

“Thanks, Dr. Chris,” she said dryly, pulling up the most recent photos. Frowning, she flicked through them, magnifying a few to get a closer view. “What is that in some of these—a penny?”

“Yep.” Having shucked his coat and hat, he moved to stand next to her. “I didn’t have my kit with me, and I needed a scale. Pennies work, since they’re a standard size.”

She snorted. “You just saw it in that movie we watched a few weeks ago.”

“Did not. Learned that in cop school.” He nudged her with his shoulder, and she caught herself before she toppled sideways. “Besides, she used a quarter in the movie.”

Grinning, Daisy brought the phone closer to her face. “Can you tell anything from these? Not to knock your photography skills, but they all look like white dents in the snow to me.”

“Yeah.” His gloomy voice made her glance at him. “I can tell that they match my boots.”

Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Which means…what? That you were the one moving a body last night?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dais. You caught me. No, these are about a size or two bigger than mine. Whoever it was walking around out there was wearing department-issued boots.”

“So it was definitely a deputy.”

“Unless someone just happened to get the same brand and style of boots, then yeah.”

“Uh…didn’t we already know that? This guy was driving a squad, after all.”

Reclaiming his phone, Chris started sorting through his photos. “Not necessarily. All someone needed was access and the keys. Could’ve been a family member or a friend of someone on the department. Here.” He handed the phone back to her, a photo of about a dozen people on the screen. “Was the person last night any of these guys?”