Chapter 8: Mase
Holding the flowers as gingerly as he would an explosive, Mase examined the innocuous gift. Thick, black handwriting got his attention, and he read the writing along the brown paper: Daisies for Daisy.
Not once did Daisy ask to see the flowers. Instead she watched them as if they would explode.
"I think we can safely assume the flowers at work were for you," he said, his calm words belying the nausea tightening in his stomach.
"I guess," she whispered. Something about her tone had him scanning her sharply. Her fair skin was even paler than normal, and her light green eyes were wide, worried. He tried to give her a reassuring smile before refocusing on the bouquet. Beneath his fingers, a small piece of tape stuck out. When he pulled it, the paper opened and he saw more was written. At first, he couldn't understand what he was seeing, a combination of letters and numbers which didn't spell anything.
But after a moment of staring, it made sense. C3H5N903: nitroglycerin. NaNO3: sodium nitrate. They were chemical formulas for explosive bases and oxygen carriers. Above the formula, though, were words that made his blood freeze. For Daisy.
Moving rapidly, Mase dropped the flowers on the seat and grabbed Daisy, lifting her into his arms and pulling her out of the truck with him.
"What's going on?" she asked. He didn't miss the way her voice trembled.
"I don't know," he answered. "Whatever it is, it's not good."
With her small hand held tight in his, he stormed into the station house. "Where's the captain?" he demanded of the first firefighter he came across.
"He's still at the site," Vince replied. "He's with Morgan and his canines."
Giving the man a curt nod, Mase strode into the dispatch office, aware of Daisy stumbling behind him, struggling to keep up. "I need a secure line to the captain," he told the dispatcher, an older woman named Pamela.
To her credit, the woman wasn't intimidated by him. Calm was a required attribute for anyone who answered calls about burning buildings and injuries. Lifting the radio, the woman made the call before handing it over to Mase.
"What's this about?" Stewart asked, right to the point.
"Daisy got a weird note, here at the station," he began before the captain broke in.
"Jesus, Mase. I don't have time for this."
"Sir," he added hurriedly, keeping his eyes on Daisy. "I think it's from whomever is starting the fires."
There was a moment of silence, the only sound the crackle of the open line before his captain came back on. "Stay there. I'm sending the detectives."
"Roger," he answered, handing the radio back to the dispatcher.
When he'd dropped her hands to talk to the captain, Daisy had wrapped her arms around her waist, as though holding herself together. He reached for her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her into his body. Her personality often had him believing she was bigger, stronger than she really was. Now frightened and confused, her small frame trembling, he was reminded of her fragility.
"We'll figure this out," he tried to reassure her. "You're safe here."
Against his chest, she nodded, but when her voice reached him, it was unsure. "But what about you?”
****
Captain Stewart arrived with an entourage. After getting Daisy a cup of strong coffee, Mase pulled her onto his lap, keeping her there as they waited. She'd jumped when the office door had swung open and immediately tried to scramble from his lap. Not ready for her to be out of sight, however, he kept her in place with one hand.
"All right," Captain Stewart began right away. "Bring me up to speed."
As succinctly as possible, Mase recounted the events of the night—from the phone call asking Daisy to go to the fire, to the flowers and note he found on his truck.
"And you didn't see anyone approach the truck?" Stewart asked in disbelief.
"No," Mase answered. He took full responsibility for someone being able to come and go unseen. All he'd cared about was Daisy—the way she smelled and tasted, the way she felt in his arms, and then, for a few blessed moments, beneath him.
Something in his face must have alerted the captain to his distraction, because for a second, two spots of red appeared on his cheeks. "All right," Stewart said. "This is what we're going to do. I've got detectives checking out your car, and we'll get the parking lot surveillance videos to them ASAP. Between the videos and fingerprints, we'll hopefully get a bead on this guy. Until then..." He paused, as if unsure of what to do next.
"Until then," Mase interjected. "I want to take Daisy home. She needs to sleep, and I need to sleep."
"If I may," a detective added, holding up a finger. "I think it would be safer, at least until we have a better idea what we're dealing with, if you considered staying at a hotel for the night." The man glanced toward the window. "Or day, as it were. At this point, I have no cause to put a protective detail on you, but I think it'd be safer if you were a little less... visible."
Daisy met Mase's eyes, and he didn't like what he saw there. Before she even opened her mouth, he knew what was coming out. "I think Mase should stay here with you, and I should go."
"No." Not happening.
"Think about it, Mase. If you're here, away from me, you're safer. I can"—her eyes closed, and when they opened, she was resigned—"I can go to my family. No one is getting into their house. There's surveillance. If anyone attempted to break in, they'd be caught on about twenty different cameras."
"Daisy," he whispered.
"If you have a place like that to go to, I suggest you go," the detective agreed.
"Mase." His attention went to Captain Stewart, and Mase found himself glaring at the older man. "We could use you here."
"I'm not leaving Daisy unprotected," he argued.
"I won't be. You know my family. I will be very, very protected." Her pink lips mashed together, giving him a small, tremulous smile.
He knew she would be. Knew her family. And he knew their protection was the best and last thing they needed.