Prepared to be told that one of her friends had been murdered, it took Lynne a second to focus on the darts in the plastic bag. “They look like the ones I use,” she admitted. “But so do a dozen other people in the area.”
Kathy looked surprised. “Who else?”
“Farmers, conservation officers, animal control.” Lynne shrugged. “Even a few hunters.”
The sheriff nodded. It was hard to tell if she was pleased or disappointed to know that the darts were readily available in Pike. “And you have tranquilizers in your clinic?”
“Of course.”
“Can you tell me what kind?”
“Xylazine. Medetomidine. Telazol.” Lynne shrugged. “A few others, including a form of cocaine for extreme cases.”
Kathy pushed the bag back into her pocket. “I assume you keep all your drugs locked away?”
Lynne frowned. She understood the sheriff had to ask questions. The two dead women had seemingly been hit with tranq darts before they were killed. A veterinarian clinic was an obvious place to start the investigation.
Still, she couldn’t prevent herself from bristling defensively at the hint of censure in the woman’s tone. It sounded as if she suspected Lynne of being sloppy in keeping dangerous drugs off the street.
“I follow very strict protocols when it comes to keeping my medications stored.”
“Do you mind if I see?”
“Certainly not.” Lynne squared her shoulders to a rigid angle, waving her hand toward the nearby hallway. “This way.”
“Dr. Gale,” Chelsea said, her tone urgent.
“I’ll be right back, Chelsea.”
Leading the sheriff to the end of the hallway, she unlocked the steel door and shoved it open. The spacious room with high ceilings and bright lights had once been the kennels, but Lynne had built a separate space for the animals who were waiting for surgery or too sick to go home behind the clinic. It ensured they weren’t constantly being disturbed by the steady stream of patients.
Now the old kennel was lined with glass and steel cases that could be individually locked as well as steel shelves at the back for the daily office supplies.
Kathy stepped into the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle, her hard gaze missing nothing.
“Who has the key to the cabinets?” she at last demanded.
“There are three of us.” Lynne held up her keychain. “I have one. Chelsea has one. And there’s one for whichever intern is on duty.”
The sheriff took out a notebook and pencil from beneath her parka. “Could someone have made a copy?”
“Theoretically.” Lynne didn’t believe for a second any of her employees would make copies of her keys. She trusted them without question. “Why?”
“Would you know if there were any sedatives missing?”
“Absolutely.” Lynne reached out to grab the clipboard that was hanging on the wall and crossed to stand next to the sheriff. “Each prescription is logged in when it’s stocked and anyone who removes a vial has to initial the date and time and amount that is used.” She pointed to the column that listed the drugs and then the squares next to the names that showed who’d removed it from the cabinet. “They’re also recorded into the computer. At the end of the week Chelsea takes an inventory to make sure it all matches.”
Kathy studied the clipboard before glancing back at the cabinets. At last she gave a small shake of her head, as if forced to give up on a promising clue. “Where would someone get these drugs?”
“We have a computer program that tracks the drugs and creates an order from our supplier when we are running low.”
The sheriff nodded, as if making a mental note. “Can anyone order from your supplier?”
“No. You have to be a licensed vet.”
“What about the black market?”
Lynne wasn’t sure how to answer. She’d never had experience with the black market. Then again, she’d gone to enough seminars on safeguarding her prescriptions and the disposal of them after their expiration date to know that it was obviously a problem. “There isn’t the same demand as for prescriptions for humans, but any drug is worth money on the streets,” she conceded.
“And you’re certain that none is missing?”
Lynne was a tolerant woman. You couldn’t be a vet and not have the patience of a saint. But the sense of being interrogated as if she was a criminal was wearing on her nerves. “I’ve just told you, we’ve never had any—”
“Dr. Gale,” Chelsea interrupted.
Lynne sent her receptionist a sharp glance. She hadn’t realized the younger woman had followed them to the storage room. “Not now, Chelsea,” she said, in no mood to deal with whatever was bothering the younger woman.
“It’s important,” Chelsea insisted.
Lynne turned, belatedly noticing her receptionist’s pale face. “What’s wrong?”
“We did have a few vials of Telazol missing.”
Lynne stared at her employee, certain she must have misunderstood. “What are you talking about?”
Chelsea cleared her throat, shifting from one foot to another. Lynne had never seen her act so nervous. Not even when she had spilled a bottle of soda and they’d had to replace the computer system. “Well, th-they weren’t exactly m-missing,” she stammered. “They were broken.”
Lynne forgot about the sheriff as she stepped toward Chelsea. “When?”
“A couple months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The younger woman’s pallor was replaced by a deep flush. “It was just an accident. I swear.”
Lynne frowned. Chelsea had a lot of accidents. She was never this upset about them. “Okay, but it should have been noted in the inventory,” she pointed out.
Chelsea continued to shift from foot to foot, looking as if she wanted to turn and flee. “I changed the log.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
Lynne’s confusion was threaded with a hint of anger. An accident was one thing. To deliberately cover it up was another. Still, she hid her annoyance. If Chelsea thought she was being chastised, she would sulk like a petulant child and refuse to answer.
“Did you think you would be in trouble?”
The receptionist hunched her shoulders, as if she was expecting a blow. “Not because of the broken vials.”
“Then why?”
There was a long, awkward silence. “Because I wasn’t in the storage room alone,” Chelsea at last whispered.
“You . . .” Lynne’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what her employee was saying. She’d been having sex in the storage room. “Oh.”
There was the sound of heavy boots squeaking against the tile floor as the sheriff intruded into their conversation. “Who was with you?”
Chelsea seemed to shrink an inch as she twisted her fingers together. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to explain any inconsistency in the records.”
The sheriff wasn’t impressed. “I’ll decide what information is important, Ms. . . .”
“Chelsea Gallen.”
Kathy leaned forward, her hands on her hips. “Answer the question.”
Chelsea shrank another inch. “What does it matter? We were in the storage room and a few vials fell off the shelf.”
“You witnessed them break?” Kathy pressed.
“Well . . .”
“Be careful, Ms. Gallen.” The sheriff ’s expression was as icy cold as the weather outside. “It’s a crime to lie to law enforcement. Did you see the vials break?”
Chelsea shook her head. “No. I had to answer the phone. When I came back there was glass on the floor and . . .” Her words trailed away as she glanced nervously toward Lynne before returning her attention to the sheriff. “My friend was mopping up the mess. He said he’d bumped into the cabinet and a case of Telazol had fallen out and busted.”
Lynne struggled to contain her anger. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
<
br /> “I couldn’t.”
“Why not? I thought we were family here.”
Kathy sent Lynne a chiding frown. “You can discuss your trust issues later.” She pointed a finger in the younger woman’s face. “I want a name.”
The younger woman shook her head in mute misery.
Lynne ground her teeth. Why was Chelsea hesitating? Surely the worst part of the confession was the fact that she’d been having sex in the storage room? Unless she’d been in there with a married man.
“You can tell us here or we can go down to the station and talk there,” Kathy threatened.
Chelsea sucked in a terrified breath. No doubt she was thinking of her young daughter. It was a small town. Even if the sheriff didn’t press charges there would be nasty rumors swirling around her visit to the station.
She abruptly spit out the name. “It was Nash.”
Chapter 6
When Kir arrived at the clinic, he was immediately on edge at the sight of the sheriff ’s SUV parked out front. It didn’t help his nerves to enter the reception area and find it empty.
Where was everyone? Had something happened to Lynne? His heart clenched with a startling, painful sensation, but before he could allow himself to overreact, he heard the sound of voices echoing from the back of the clinic.
Cautiously he made his way down the hallway, halting just outside the open door of what looked like a storage room. Inside he could see Lynne along with Sheriff Hancock. Neither of them noticed him as they concentrated on the younger woman, who was visibly trembling. The tension was so thick he could physically feel it pulsing in the air.
Unashamedly eavesdropping, Kir managed to figure out the blond woman had been caught in the storage room getting up close and personal with some dude named Nash, and that there were vials of tranquilizer missing. Presumably the same tranquilizer that was used on the dead women. Why else would the sheriff be there asking questions?
“You know who she’s talking about?” Kathy Hancock demanded.
“Nash Cordon.” Lynne’s voice was laced with an unexpected bitterness. “My ex-boyfriend. He owns the Bait and Tackle bar on State Street.”
The sheriff grunted, her expression twisting with a sudden displeasure. “Yeah, I know him.”
“I’m sorry, I truly am,” the younger woman whispered. “It only happened a couple of times.”
Lynne held herself so rigid that Kir feared she might shatter. “Has Chelsea answered your questions?” she asked, her gaze locked on the sheriff.
Kathy shrugged. “For now.”
Kir stepped into the storage room. It was obvious Lynne was reeling from what she’d just discovered. And the knowledge that she was so deeply hurt pissed him off. He had a vague memory of Nash Cordon. In school, he’d been a cocky bastard. Clearly, he hadn’t changed much in the past few years if he was willing to cheat on Lynne with her own employee.
Still, now wasn’t the time to consider the pleasure of tracking down the jerk and punching him in the nose. Instead Kir sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the sheriff. He couldn’t take away Lynne’s visible sense of betrayal, but he could bring an end to Kathy’s interrogation. That would at least give her the space to gather her composure.
“Hello, Kathy,” he murmured.
Kathy jerked her head in his direction, her expression remaining sour as she recognized who had interrupted her grilling of the two women. Long ago the woman had treated Kir like a younger brother. But that’d all changed the day his father had been shot.
No surprise. Everything had changed that day.
“Kir.” She offered a stiff nod. “I didn’t know you were still in town.”
“It’s going to take a while to organize my dad’s things and get the house ready for sale.”
Kathy looked uncomfortable at the mention of Kir’s father. She cleared her throat. “Are you here to see Dr. Gale?”
He had been, of course. From the minute he’d opened his eyes that morning he’d been devising a reason to seek out the fascinating vet. Only the knowledge she would be busy had kept him from arriving at the clinic at the crack of dawn. Instead he’d continued his self-imposed task of packing away his father’s belongings until it was nearly noon. Then, pulling on his boots and leather coat, he’d headed for the clinic.
He’d hoped to tempt Lynne to join him for lunch. After all, their last date had been interrupted.
“Actually, I need to speak with you,” he told the sheriff. It wasn’t a lie. He did need to report the missing gun. “I saw your SUV outside.”
Kathy hesitated before offering a grudging nod. Heading toward the door, she glared at the two women. “Don’t leave town. Either of you.”
Resisting the urge to send Lynne a comforting smile, Kir stepped aside to allow Kathy to take the lead as they left the clinic. Once outside, the sheriff stuffed her hands in the pockets of her parka.
The sun was blindingly bright as it shimmered and reflected off the snow, but the wind was biting.
Kathy shaded her eyes with one hand. “What do you need?”
“Can we talk at Dad’s house?”
“Why?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
Kathy furrowed her brow. “I don’t really have time. In case you haven’t heard, we have two dead women.”
“It’s important,” he insisted.
“Fine,” she muttered. She pressed the side of the small radio attached to her coat. “Anthony, come in.”
There was the sound of static, then a male voice answered. “Anthony, here.”
“I need you to call Nash Cordon at the Bait and Tackle bar and tell him I want him at the station for an interview ASAP.”
“Ten-four.”
Kathy dropped her hand and glanced around the parking lot. “Do you want a ride?”
No. What he wanted was to return to the clinic and pull Lynne into his arms. He couldn’t explain the sensation. He had no reason to feel so protective toward the woman. It wasn’t like they’d been best friends when he’d lived in Pike. At that age two years between them meant they were never in the same classes. And since his move to Boston, he’d barely glimpsed her during his fleeting visits.
Still it was an effort to force himself to nod his head. “That would be great.”
Together they climbed into the SUV and Kathy started the engine. Pulling out of the parking lot, she turned onto the street heading south.
She drove slowly as they bumped over the thick layer of ice, her fingers clenching the steering wheel. Then without warning she heaved a harsh sigh. “I’m sorry about Rudolf.” Her gaze remained locked on the road.
“Are you?”
She sent him a startled glance. “Of course.”
Kir turned in his seat. It’d been sheer impulse to ask Kathy to come to his father’s house, but he realized this was the perfect opportunity to get some answers.
“Dad said you refused to talk to him.” He didn’t bother with polite small talk. Kathy had never been chatty, not even when she’d been Rudolf ’s deputy. She was blunt to the point of rudeness. He intended to be the same. “That you wouldn’t take his calls.”
Her jaw hardened at his words. “He accused me of refusing to do my job. In fact, he implied that I was assisting a murderer to escape justice.”
“He could be difficult,” Kir agreed.
Kathy snorted. “He was a pain in the ass.”
It was true, but Kir wasn’t letting this woman forget that she owed Rudolf Jansen her career. “He was also the only one willing to battle against the prejudices of Pike to hire a woman as his deputy.” Kir didn’t add that at the same time Rudolf had overlooked her sketchy family. She came from a long line of con men, petty thieves, and moochers. When his father had first hired her, Kathy had been living out of her car.
Kathy’s expression was stoic, but the flush that crawled beneath her freckled skin proved Kir had made a direct hit.
“That’s true,” she muttered
. “He hired me and trained me to be a good cop. I considered him to be a second father.”
There was a hint of genuine regret in her voice. Kir frowned. “So what went wrong?”
“He got shot.”
“You blame him for that?”
“No, he blamed me.”
Kir’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth. His father might have drowned himself in alcohol and self-pity after the shooting, but he’d never blamed anyone for what had happened to him. Not even the low-life drug dealer who’d pulled the trigger. “That’s not true. He never said a word about you being responsible. In fact, he’d always said that every day he walked out the front door he never knew if he was coming home. He accepted the dangers of his job.”
“He didn’t blame me for getting shot. He blamed me for taking the job he loved.” Kathy sent him a quick, bitter glare as she pulled the SUV to a halt in front of the two-storied white house with green shutters and a steeply slanted roof. “And he wasn’t the only one. I didn’t put the bullet in Rudolf ’s head, but more than one person believed I was quick to take advantage of the situation.”
Kir shoved open his door and slid out of the SUV. Did he resent this woman for taking his dad’s place? Maybe a little. It’d been hard to watch his father struggling to accept his forced retirement while Kathy walked around town, doing his job. He’d never actually considered how difficult it might have been for Kathy to step into the shoes of a man who’d been close to a legend in this town.
With a sharp shake of his head, Kir led the sheriff to the side door that opened directly into the kitchen.
“You’ll probably want to take off your coat,” he suggested as the warmth of the house wrapped around him. “I’ve had the heater on high since I returned for the funeral. The place felt like the inside of a freezer when I first arrived.”
Kathy halted next to the kitchen table that was piled with boxes. Absently she pulled off her parka, hung it on the back of a chair, and glanced toward the old ceramic mug that was stained from forty years of Rudolf ’s morning coffee.
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