In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(35)
Before she could even begin to blame her imagination and the poor illumination, the shadow moved again. The light from the closest streetlamp reflected off a pale face.
“Should’ve worn face paint, whoever you are,” she muttered, moving to her knees and leaning close to the window. When her breath started fogging the glass, she reluctantly shifted back a few inches and used her sleeve to clear the condensation. “Or one of those black bank-robber face masks.”
The figure disappeared, and Daisy made a sound of annoyance. She didn’t move, as if a shift in position would ensure that she didn’t see the trespasser again. She stared so hard at the spot where she’d last seen the shadow that her eyes began to itch and burn. When she finally allowed herself to blink, her vision blurred with tears, and Daisy hurried to rub away the wetness.
It took her a few seconds to catch the motion on the near side of the house, since she was concentrating so hard on the other. The figure stood out against the white of the house and the remaining snow, showing the differences between the current intruder and Macavoy. This one was lanky and not quite as tall as the deputy. That, and the way he moved, made her think he was a teenager.
Daisy squinted, trying to bring the kid’s uncovered face into focus. “Corbin, is that you? What are you up to this time?” She wondered if he was trying to sneak inside so he didn’t get in trouble with his parents for breaking curfew. Instead of looking at his home, though, possibly-Corbin was peering into one of the side windows of the white house.
That wasn’t going to lead to anything good. Although she hated taking her eyes off the skulking kid, she made a quick dash to grab her phone off the nightstand where it’d been charging. Returning to the window seat, she saw that maybe-Corbin was still in the same place. He’d grown bolder, though, and had cupped both hands around his face to better see into the dark room.
Daisy’s finger hovered over Chris’s name, but it was his last day off before he started on nights. Instead, she found the nonemergency number for Dispatch and tapped it. Whoever was manning the phones would be up already—hopefully—so she wouldn’t be waking someone to report some bored, trespassing kid.
“Communications.”
“Hi,” Daisy said awkwardly. “This is Daisy Little, and there’s what looks like a teenager sneaking around outside the empty house across the street from me. It’s 304 Alpine Lane.”
“Daisy Little?” the dispatcher repeated. “The sheriff wanted to talk to you directly if something else happened involving that house. Can he give you a call on this number?”
“Oh,” Daisy said, flustered. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a bored kid, so you don’t have to wake up the sheriff for something so minor. I just don’t want any damage to be done to the house. Could you just have one of the on-duty deputies do a drive-by?”
“Sheriff Coughlin was insistent,” the dispatcher told her apologetically. “Is this number the best one for him to use? I’m sure he’ll call you immediately.”
“This number is fine,” she said reluctantly. If she’d known it was going to require a conversation with Sheriff Judge-y-pants, Daisy would’ve woken Chris, instead. “Could you let him know that it’s definitely not an emergency, though, and that I don’t require a call back?”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks.” After she ended the call, Daisy stared at her cell phone in dread for a few seconds before remembering the trespasser. When she looked at the white house, the kid was gone—or out of her sight, at least. She watched the property, alternating between the near and far sides of the house, but no one was skulking in the shadows.
The sound of her ringtone made her jump. In her attempt to get another glimpse of the intruder, the sheriff’s call had slipped her mind. With the kid gone, she was even more reluctant to answer. Daisy was afraid if she didn’t, though, the sheriff would send someone to her front door to check on her. Over-the-phone embarrassment was preferable to in-person embarrassment, so she accepted the call.
“Hi, Sheriff.”
“Ms. Little.” He sounded alert, so hopefully the dispatcher hadn’t woken him. “More trouble in the neighborhood?”
“Nothing major,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bother you with this, but the dispatcher insisted you’d want to talk to me.”
“It’s fine. What’s going on?”
“Someone was sneaking around outside the for-sale house. It looked like a teenager. He went around the back and then looked in a side window. I just called Dispatch in case he was thinking about doing some vandalism or wanted to break in or something.”
“Is he still there?”
“I don’t think so.” Her eyes were glued on the empty house, and everything was still. “He slipped away while I was talking to the dispatcher.”
“I’ll stop by in the morning,” the sheriff said, making Daisy wince.
“You really don’t have to do that, Sheriff.” She tried to sound grateful and discouraging at the same time. “I just thought a squad passing through the neighborhood would drive the kid away. He’s gone now, and you don’t need to waste your time—”
“Seeing to your peace of mind isn’t a waste of time, Ms. Little,” Coughlin interrupted. “I’ll be by around six thirty tomorrow morning, if you’ll be awake by then?”