Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
S carlet placed the clean pan on the drying rack next to the small pot and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It was times like this when she wished her cute little apartment came with a dishwasher. But no. She was the dishwasher.
She grimaced. There was no real reason to complain. Even though it was older, the two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment was larger than any place she’d ever lived, and it was conveniently located right above Hudson Island Antiques, which was only a couple of blocks from Ray’s Diner. It also had come fully furnished, an absolute blessing since she’d arrived with only what she’d been able to fit in her car—two large suitcases and some random odds and ends.
The apartment even boasted two balconies. The bigger one was off the living room and had a gas grill that she had every intention of learning to use. One day. The smaller balcony was accessed through her bedroom and had a white oversized wicker chair with a matching little end table. It was one of her favorite places to unwind. After Daisy went to bed, Scarlet would often sit out there and relax, or she’d lie in bed with the sliding glass door cracked and listen to the sounds of her little town closing down for the day.
She’d really lucked out with this place. Mr. Wayland, who owned both the antique store and the building, was Martha’s nephew, so he’d given her a screaming deal since she worked at Ray’s. The building’s second floor housed her apartment and another larger apartment that he used as a vacation rental. She was certain he could have charged her much, much more in rent, but she wasn’t going to question it.
Still. It had been the longest week ever, so she had a right to gripe a little bit. She was exhausted and so thankful it was Friday. Mercifully, Ray and Martha allowed her to only work the weekday shifts so she could have the weekends with Daisy.
At the thought of her daughter, guilt pierced her chest.
She had messed up this week. Big-time.
Scarlet would be the first person to admit that she didn’t know much about raising a kid. Growing up, her parental figure had been questionable at best. Gross negligence was what one judge had ruled. So, while she’d been pregnant, she’d practically lived at the library, reading as many books as she could on parenting. But nothing had prepared her for the reality of it all. Especially not as a single parent.
The newborn phase had been more than rough. But as soon as Scarlet had figured out that her daughter would sleep for long stretches on her chest, she had taken advantage of the information. She’d slept in a recliner, Daisy on top of her, for a solid year. Some books said co-sleeping was bad, others said it was good. All she knew was they’d both gotten rest in that position.
Once Daisy had started crawling, Scarlet had become strict, setting firm boundaries for her daughter. As Daisy got older, Scarlet refused to bend because, frankly, their situation didn’t allow for it. It was a safety issue. If they were at a playground and she called Daisy over, she needed her child to comply immediately. Luckily, Daisy always did. And she never protested the rules.
Except for the evening she had broken her arm. She’d begged and pleaded to go to the day care’s pool day and movie night even though Scarlet had wanted to keep her home to rest. Her daughter didn’t ask for much—the kid was more than happy with her small collection of stuffies and coloring books—so she’d relented. She had stupidly thought it would be okay.
Then, on Wednesday morning, Daisy had been a mess. Constant tears, beyond cranky, and refusing to listen. Which was not like her daughter. At all. Yes, kids could be little assholes, but Daisy wasn’t like that. Truly. People often liked to joke that Scarlet must have Daisy on a steady stream of Benadryl because the little girl was so easygoing.
So Scarlet had called in at work and kept Daisy home from day care. By mid-morning, her daughter’s hand had puffed up like an exploding marshmallow. Not knowing what to do—aside from freaking out—she’d rushed over to Doc’s clinic.
In a nutshell, Daisy had overdone it at the pool day and movie night.
Doc had removed Daisy’s cast, put her arm in a sling, and given her some ibuprofen. The swelling had gone down later that night, so he’d been able to recast her arm on Thursday. But she had to keep her arm in a sling for the next twenty-four hours.
Scarlet pinched the bridge of her nose. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the pool day and movie night would be too much for her daughter. After all, they were only kiddie pools with a few inches of water. She’d figured the kids were just hanging out and playing and splashing, not full-on swimming or anything... it would be fine.
She’d been so, so wrong.
She was officially the world’s worst mother. She was the one who’d allowed her child to overdo it.
“Look, Mama,” Daisy called out from the kitchen table. She held up a piece of paper with her left hand. “I can still draw! It’s a rainbow!”
Scarlet made out the shaky rainbow and what she assumed were blue clouds and a giant yellow sun. Giving the counter a final wipe, she moved to where her daughter was seated and ran a hand over Daisy’s head.
“That’s beautiful, baby girl,” she said, playing with the ends of her daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you start putting your crayons away now? It’s almost time for your medicine, and then it’s bedtime.” Daisy’s face scrunched, and Scarlet smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s the cherry-flavored medicine. Not the yucky pink one.”
Daisy immediately brightened. “Okay. Can you put this on the figyator?”
“Sure thing. When you’re done putting the crayons away, grab your jammies and pick out which bubbles you want for your bath.”
Once the crayons were back in their tub, Daisy scrambled out of her chair. “Can I sleep with you again, Mama?” she asked, running toward her bedroom.
“Walk, please,” Scarlet called out, wincing as she followed. Not only because her daughter was running, but also because she got next to zero rest when they shared a bed. Her little girl was an active sleeper. But it didn’t matter. “Of course, baby. We’ll have another slumber party tonight, but I want you to try to sleep in your own bed tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Daisy replied, grabbing her pink unicorn nightgown from where it lay on her twin-size bed.
Scarlet opened a dresser drawer and asked, “Do you want unicorn or princess undies?”
Daisy took a few seconds to consider her two options. “Princess. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”
“You got it.” She ushered her daughter into the bathroom with said undies and a waterproof cast cover.
After giving Daisy a bath with lavender-scented bubbles, brushing her tangled black hair out, and helping her brush her teeth, it only took two bedtime stories—and a dose of children’s Tylenol—before she conked out. Scarlet glanced at the clock.
Eight thirty on a Friday night.
In her old life, the evening would have been just getting started. Now? She was hitting the shower, changing into her sleep shorts and tank, and falling into bed. Maybe she’d crack the slider and live vicariously through the tourists having a fun Friday night.
Her gaze landed on her sleeping daughter, and her heart ached with guilt. But Daisy was taking everything in stride. Perhaps she could learn a lesson from her child.
A crash had Scarlet’s eyes flying open. Disoriented from sleep, she tried to make out the noise that had woken her. It wasn’t unusual to hear breaking glass in the middle of the night—unfortunately, the staff at Monty’s Tavern tended to dump their empty bottles in the recycle bins at all hours. Tonight, however, Scarlet’s racing heart told her that wasn’t it.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and the display illuminated.
Three fifteen.
Dread crawled over her skin. At the latest, Monty’s closed at two. The crew was always out of there thirty minutes after they closed their doors.
Her phone’s display darkened. Now the only light came from the streetlamp outside, through the sliding glass door’s sheer curtain, which billowed gently with the breeze. She could make out her daughter’s sleeping form next to her, and she could hear Daisy’s soft, steady breath. Otherwise, the apartment was quiet.
What had woken her?
A thump, followed by a muffled curse, sent her gaze flying to her closed bedroom door. Her heart knocked hard in her chest.
Holy. Shit. Someone was in her apartment.
Sitting up in bed, she stared at the door. They were trapped. Her breathing accelerated—until she remembered the billowing curtain. The balcony!
As silently as she could, she moved the accent chair from beside her bed to block her closed door, grateful for the carpeted floors. Then, grabbing her phone, she carefully scooped up Daisy, grateful her child was a heavy sleeper, and crept to the sliding door. She prayed it wouldn’t choose this moment to squeak.
Luck was on her side as the door noiselessly slid open. She shut it behind her and hustled to the opposite end. With her sleeping daughter tucked in her arms, she huddled down and hid behind the large wicker chair. Her hand shook as she pressed three numbers and put the phone to her ear.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
Scarlet flinched at the woman’s loud, sharp voice and immediately turned down the volume. “Someone broke into my apartment,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. She rushed to tell the dispatcher her address. “Please send someone. My daughter and I are hiding on the bedroom balcony.” Her blood turned to ice as she realized she’d further trapped them. “Ohmygod, there’s no way down. It’s too high to jump.”
“Ma’am, please stay where you are. I’m contacting the authorities, and they’ll be on their way shortly.”
Her apartment was literally across the street from the sheriff’s department, but every second felt like a lifetime.
Scarlet squeezed her eyes shut. Still, tears leaked through. Please, please hurry .
“Ma’am, are you there?”
It took a few tries, but Scarlet managed to croak, “Yes.”
“Good. Stay on the line with me. Now, do you know how many people entered your apartment?”
She shook her head before realizing the dispatcher couldn’t see her. “No. I only heard one person, though.”
“Can you tell me what you heard?”
“There was a crash,” she whispered, mind racing. What else had she heard? “Um, then it sounded like the person ran into something and muttered a curse.”
“Could you tell from the voice if it was a male or female?”
“No.” Terror had her arms trembling. “Are the police on their way?”
“Yes, ma’am. They should be there any moment.”
“Mama?”
“Shhh,” Scarlet hushed, willing herself to stay calm. She adjusted Daisy so she was cradled against her chest like a frog, head resting on her shoulder. “We have to stay very, very quiet, baby.”
“Like hide-and-seek?”
She grimaced at Daisy’s attempt at a whisper. Which wasn’t a whisper at all. “That’s right. But even more quiet than hide-and-seek. We have to do no talking at all, okay?”
Scarlet felt Daisy nod. Peering down, her frown deepened when she saw her daughter’s lower lip jutting out. She ran her free hand up and down Daisy’s tiny back. “You’re doing great, baby.”
“But, Mama, we left Mr. Slothy inside, and he’s scared.”
Scarlet’s pulse picked up speed as she shushed her child. “He’s safe. I promise, baby. Mr. Slothy is super brave,” she murmured. “I promise we’ll get him a special treat tomorrow. But right now, we have to be super-duper quiet.”
Daisy nodded again, snuggling even closer, and whispered, “Mr. Slothy wants Otter Pops. The blue kind.”
Blinking back more tears, Scarlet pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. The lavender scent from Daisy’s earlier bubble bath filled her nose, and the tears broke free, spilling down her cheeks. “You got it, baby girl.”
A loud crash sounded inside the apartment. Scarlet jumped, and Daisy let out a tiny whimper. She tightened her arm around her daughter. A split second later, the wail of a siren pierced the night.
She bit back a sob. The phone shook in her hand. “Please say that’s the poli?—”
Glass exploded. Scarlet stifled a scream as she twisted away from the door, trying to shield Daisy. The sirens grew louder. Blue and red lights lit up the sky. A screech of tires, and then car doors slammed. But all Scarlet could focus on was her crying child.
“Ma’am!”
Scarlet looked around and spotted her dropped phone. “The sliding glass door to the balcony shattered,” she explained when she brought it back to her ear. “I think they threw something through it.”
“Ma’am, stay with me. The sheriff’s department has arrived, and I’ve informed them where you and your daughter are located.” The dispatcher’s soothing voice was like a balm over Scarlet’s frazzled nerves. “You two need to stay put. The deputies will come find you.”
Panic tore through her. “Please don’t go!”
“No, ma’am. I’ll stay on the line with you until the deputies arrive.”
“Thank you.” She rocked Daisy, finding comfort in the steady motion. After a moment, Daisy’s cries settled into a soft hiccup. “Um, am I allowed to ask what your name is?”
The other woman chuckled. “Of course, ma’am. It’s Carol.”
Scarlet’s throat tightened, and her vision blurred with fresh tears. “Thank you, Carol. For staying with me.”
“You’re very welcome, ma’am.”
She heard the murmurs of the deputies inside her apartment and saw an occasional flashlight beam. Aside from that, everything had gone calm and quiet. Did that mean whoever had broken into her apartment had been caught? Or were they long gone?
A shiver tore through her. She took a deep breath in and slowly released it. Her nerves eased a bit, but her tears kept flowing. “You know, Carol, I can’t remember if I told you, but my name is Scarlet. I’m a waitress at Ray’s Diner, and if you ever find yourself on Hudson Island, I would love to buy you lunch. I mean, I know it’s not much... not for everything you’ve done. I can’t thank you enough, though.” Her voice broke on the last words.
“That’s very kind of you, Scarlet,” Carol said, voice unwavering. “It’s also unnecessary, but I’ve heard many good things about Ray’s, so I’ll come out there sometime soon. I’d love to meet you.”
“Me too, Carol. Be forewarned, though. When I meet you, I’m gonna hug the hell out of you.”
As Carol laughed, Scarlet saw a man pop his head through the shattered door.
“Hey, Scarlet.”
At the familiar face, her shoulders slumped in relief. “Hey, Chase.” Not only was Deputy Patrick Chase part of the Hudson Island Sheriff’s Department, but like everyone else on the island, he was also a regular at Ray’s Diner.
“I hear they found you,” Carol said. “I’ll let you go now. Take care, Scarlet.”
Swallowing a sob, she nodded, even though the other woman couldn’t see her. “Thank you, Carol.”
Their call disconnected, and Scarlet gingerly rose from her hiding spot, careful not to jostle Daisy’s arm. Her sweet little girl clung to her like a monkey.
“Why don’t you stay where you are for another few minutes,” Chase said, holding out a hand, halting her. “There’s plenty of glass here.”
When she nodded, he moved away from the door. Another man took his place. Unlike Chase, who wore his uniform, Sheriff Quinn O’Conner was clad in jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, and his hair was mussed. Obviously, he’d been asleep when she’d made her call to 9-1-1.
“Let me get you both a pair of shoes before you come this way. Where are they?” Quinn asked in his steady, everything-is-under-control tone.
She wasn’t going to lie. That tone helped. Hell, knowing Quinn and Chase were with her helped. Because holy shit, she’d never been so terrified. And that was saying something since she’d been involved in some god-awful situations.
Scarlet blinked as she realized Quinn was staring at her. Answer the man! “Oh, sorry. Our shoes are in the closet by the front door.”
With a nod, he vanished back inside.
She sighed and shifted Daisy to her other hip.
“Mama? I gotta go potty.”
Eyeing the glass fragments on the balcony, she ran a hand down Daisy’s back. “Can you hold it for just a little bit?”
Fortunately, Quinn reappeared.
“Here, I’ll hold Daisy while you get these on,” he said, placing Scarlet’s pink Converse at her feet. As he straightened, he held his arms out to her daughter. And Daisy clung even tighter to her.
He held his hands up, and Scarlet shot him an apologetic smile. “How about you put her shoes on”—Scarlet nodded to Daisy’s sneakers, which he held in one hand—“while I hold her?”
“Deal,” he said, giving Daisy a comforting smile. “Hi, Daisy. I’m Sheriff O’Conner. I’m going to help put your shoes on so your feet don’t get cut on all this glass. It’s a mess inside too, so make sure you keep your shoes on, okay?”
Daisy didn’t say anything, but she tipped her head in a little nod.
Once Daisy’s shoes were on, Scarlet stuffed her feet into her Converse and carefully followed Quinn back inside, still carrying her daughter. The crunch of glass beneath her feet turned her stomach.
Upon stepping into her bedroom, she froze. The dresser drawers were hanging open, and the small bin of makeup and toiletries she kept on top was tipped over. She didn’t have much, but what she did have was spilling onto the carpet.
“Mama, I gotta go,” Daisy whimpered.
Snapping back to attention, she asked Quinn, “Can I take her to the bathroom?”
“Of course,” he said. “We’ll talk when she’s done.”
After helping Daisy in the bathroom, Scarlet tried to put her down in her own bedroom—which, thankfully, looked untouched—but her little girl clung on. Not that Scarlet could blame her. It had been a frightening night, and frankly, she wanted Daisy as close as possible.
Draping one of Daisy’s favorite toddler blankets around her shoulders, Scarlet went into the living room. She hadn’t looked at it when she’d taken Daisy to the bathroom, but now there was no avoiding reality. The living room appeared as though it had been tossed. Like on TV when the bad guy was searching for something. Couch cushions upended, cabinet doors wide open, drawers emptied, Daisy’s crayon bin spilled onto the carpet...
“There was no one here when we arrived,” Quinn began. “However, at the downstairs entrance, there was an obvious forced entry.” He gestured to her front door, which looked to be hanging on one hinge. “The apartment next door was also broken into and ransacked. Deputy Chase is over there checking that out. At first glance, there doesn’t appear to be any renters staying there, but do you know if there are?”
“Nobody right now,” she said, swaying back and forth as she tucked Daisy’s head under her chin. “Mr. Wayland shares the rental calendar with me.” Quinn’s eyebrows lifted in question, and she explained, “For security. He said he feels guilty renting the place out when it’s just me and Daisy here alone.” She shrugged. “So I know that no one is supposed to be checking in until next Friday.”
“That makes sense.” Quinn examined her living room. “Can you take a look around and see if there’s anything missing? Your purse, electronics, jewelry... That kind of thing.”
She inclined her head toward the clunky television. “Looks like they didn’t want that relic.”
He scoffed. “More like they couldn’t lift it. They took the flat-screen off the wall at the other place.” He scanned the room once more, and his smile vanished. “I’m sorry this happened, Scarlet. Take a look around. I’m going to go check in with Chase.”
The second Quinn stepped out of her apartment, she tensed, all her worry and unease returning in full force. What if the person who did this wasn’t gone? What if?—
No. Focus, dammit!
She blew out a breath, and with Daisy passed out in her arms, she began a slow inspection of the apartment.
It didn’t take long for her to determine what was missing. Her place wasn’t all that big, and they hadn’t accumulated a lot since they’d moved in. Minimalism was how she liked to think of it. Because that sounded a whole lot better than poor . And now she was even poorer. Because her purse was missing. Her driver’s license, debit card, and just over two hundred in cash. Tips she’d meant to deposit in the bank but hadn’t gotten around to yet.
She heaved out another sigh, and then her eyes widened.
Her driver’s license.
Holy shit. The US Marshals Service had supplied her current Washington State driver’s license. Could she just go to the licensing place and get a new one? Was that even possible? Crap. The last thing she wanted was to have to contact them?—
“Scarlet?”
She bit back a yelp and spun toward the door.
“Sorry,” Quinn said, holding up his hands again. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay.” Heat washed over her face as she glanced between Quinn and Chase. “I’m a little jumpy tonight.” When they continued to look at her expectantly, she cringed. “I’m sorry. Did you say something earlier?”
“I asked if you have somewhere else you can stay tonight,” Quinn said.
“Oh, um...” She considered the question, frowning. Crap. That would be a big, fat nope.
Footsteps sounded, and a man came to a stop behind Quinn and Chase. Her jaw dropped.
“I got here as fast as I could. Are you okay, Scarlet?”
For a moment, she could only stare.
What is Matt Alvarez doing here?