Don't Look

by Alexandra Ivy

  Lynne hurriedly distracted him from the memory of his father’s injuries. “What do you know about the suspect?”

  “Delbert Frey,” Kir told her. “A local drug dealer who my father had arrested a dozen times before.”

  “Why did he shoot your father?” she asked. “Loitering doesn’t seem like it was that big of a deal.”

  “He was carrying enough crack on him to get him charged with trafficking.” Kir’s jaw tightened with frustrated anger. “That would have meant several years in the penitentiary, not the usual slap on the wrist.”

  “Did he have a partner?”

  “None listed.”

  “What about a family?”

  Kir shuffled through the papers in the file. “There’s nothing in his rap sheet.” He paused, glancing at one of the clippings. “Ah. This is the obituary section of the newspaper.” He tilted it so she could see the faded newsprint as he read out loud. “Delbert Frey, thirty-seven years old, was cremated and laid to rest in a private ceremony. He was preceded in death by his parents. Surviving are his wife, one child, and a sister. Flowers and memorials can be sent to the Grange Funeral Home.”

  It was brief and to the point. As if the reporter had dashed it off at the last second. She shook her head in confusion. “Why didn’t they give any names?”

  Kir dropped the clipping back into the file. “They were probably trying to protect the family,” he said. “I doubt they were very popular in town.”

  She nodded. He was probably right. She could remember the public outrage when it was discovered that Rudolf was in the hospital, fighting for his life after a lowlife criminal had put a bullet in his head. If the drug dealer hadn’t died in the shoot-out, there was a chance he might have been hauled to the town square and beaten to death.

  “Frey.” She tested the name, feeling a vague sense that she should recognize it. “Does it mean anything to you?”

  Kir shrugged. “My father probably mentioned him, but I don’t remember anything in particular.”

  “What about witnesses?”

  He sent her a startled glance. “I’m not sure, but that’s an excellent thought. It’s possible the person sending the letters to my father wasn’t involved in the shooting, but simply witnessed it.” He placed the file back in the box and surged to his feet. “I need to go to the sheriff’s office to read through the official report. It should reveal any witnesses. It might also have more information on Delbert Frey.”

  Lynne rose to stand beside him. “Do you think they’ll let you see it?”

  A hard smile curved his lips. “One way or another.”

  She believed him. Kir could be charming, funny, and a delightful companion. But he’d survived an alcoholic father and built a million-dollar business with his bare hands. There was nothing he couldn’t achieve once he set his mind on a goal.

  Relieved he was going to be spending the morning at the sheriff’s office and not out searching for the killer, Lynne turned her thoughts to her own plans for the day. “I need to get home to change for work.”

  He nodded. “I’ll ride along and pick up my SUV at your house.”

  A half hour later they were pulling to a halt in front of her house and Kir was climbing out of her truck.

  She reached across to grab his arm. “Kir.”

  He glanced at her in surprise. “What?”

  She wrinkled her nose, not sure why she felt a sudden chill of premonition. Almost as if something was whispering in her ear that danger was near.

  “Be careful.”

  Chapter 25

  Kir glared down at the deputy. Anthony was a heavyset man with an unfortunate squint who was guarding the entrance to the sheriff’s office. The deputy had started the encounter with a hint of smug superiority. He’d informed Kir that there was no way in hell a civilian was pawing through official sheriff reports. And even hinted that he might write Kir a ticket for wasting his time.

  That was when Kir had taken command of the situation.

  He might not have his father’s macho bluster, but he could be as intimidating and ruthless as any CEO. Now the younger man had lost the color from his face and he looked like he was wondering if he would fit beneath the desk. Kir could tell him the answer was no. Not unless the deputy was a contortionist, which seemed unlikely.

  “I’m not leaving until I see my father’s file,” he told the man.

  “I—”

  His protest was interrupted as the door behind him was jerked open to reveal Kathy Hancock.

  “I’ll deal with this,” the sheriff said, pointing toward Kir. “Come into my office.”

  Kir circled the deputy’s desk and headed through the open door. Kathy stepped aside, closing the door behind him.

  “Has anyone told you that you’re a pain in the ass?” she asked.

  Kir shrugged. “Not today.”

  “Well now someone has.” Kathy settled behind her desk, nodding toward a chair in the center of the floor. “Sit down.”

  For a stark minute, Kir was frozen in place. It’d been eighteen years since he’d stepped foot in this office. Now the sight of it hit him with a physical force.

  He could remember peering out the long, narrow windows that overlooked the town square. Or zooming his toy cars over the wood-planked floor while he and his mother waited for Rudolf to finish up his paperwork and take them to dinner. Or the memorable weekend his father had made him stand in the corner for endless hours after he’d been caught smoking in the garage.

  Glancing around he realized he could barely recognize the place. The wooden floor had been covered by a thick carpet and the windows were hidden behind heavy drapes. The leather furniture had been replaced with IKEA closeout specials, with lots of shelves and filing cabinets on rollers. Even the chairs had wheels. And the walls had been stripped bare of the framed pictures of the town that his father had collected over the years, to be replaced with bulletin boards covered with MOST WANTED posters.

  It looked sterile, and bland, and the sight of it caused a visceral pain inside Kir that nearly sent him to his knees.

  Clenching his hands, he sucked in a slow, deep breath. And then another one. At last he managed to make his way to the chair and sit down, although his emotions remained raw.

  Kathy watched him with a frown, easily sensing his distress. “Why are you terrifying my deputy?”

  Kir glanced toward her desk, which appeared remarkably tidy. His father usually had stacks of files and notebooks filled with his scribbled reminders or details of his ongoing cases.

  “Did you listen to the tape?” he abruptly demanded. He hadn’t expected to see the sheriff. He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to discover if she had any new information.

  There was a short silence before she gave a shake of her head. “No.”

  “Christ.” He shoved himself upright, the chair wheeling away. “Are you deliberately trying to let the serial killer run loose?”

  She sent him a fierce scowl. “Sit down and shut up.”

  “I—”

  “Do you want me to explain or not?”

  Kir ground his teeth, grabbing the chair to steady it before sitting down. “This had better be good.”

  Kathy pressed her hands flat against the empty desk, her expression sour. “I haven’t listened to the tape because I’ve turned the case over to the task force that’s arriving today.”

  Kir blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What task force?”

  “When I was in Madison to deliver the evidence from the crime scenes, I asked to meet with the Feds. It’s obvious we don’t have the staff or the resources necessary to track down the killer.”

  That was astonishingly reasonable, Kir silently conceded. And completely out of character for the sheriff who’d been aggressively possessive about the investigation. He studied her in confusion. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I don’t answer to you,” she snapped.

  Her harsh response rasped against his exposed n
erves. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed with annoyance. “All I want is for the killer to be stopped,” he said between clenched teeth. “Why are you trying to make Lynne and me the enemy?”

  “You’re interfering in official law enforcement business. I have enough on my hands without amateur sleuths bumbling around creating chaos.”

  “It’s more than that. From the beginning you’ve had a chip on your shoulder.”

  Kathy flushed. “Bullshit.”

  Kir refused to back down. “Are you trying to claim you weren’t determined to pin the murders on Lynne?”

  “I was following the evidence,” the sheriff stubbornly insisted. “Not only were the victims knocked out by dart guns that are regularly used by vets, but the sedatives could be directly traced to her clinic. Or have you forgotten that fact?”

  “That was easily explained by Chelsea.”

  “Too easily.”

  Kir stiffened. There was an edge in her voice that made the hairs on his nape stand on end. “What are you talking about?”

  A humorless smile curved the woman’s lips. “Did you ever consider the possibility that your girlfriend convinced her lover to seduce Chelsea?”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “To have a fall guy in case things went south.” Kathy said the words with a coup de grâce flourish. As if she’d made some point that should have stunned Kir with its brilliance. Instead he was baffled by her logic.

  “So who’s the fall guy? Chelsea or Nash?”

  “Either one. Maybe both.” She made a sound of annoyance. “Neither one had the brains to realize they were pawns.”

  Kir remained confused. “Why would Lynne go to the trouble of stealing her own drugs? Wouldn’t it be easier to convince one of them to steal from another vet? Or even to buy the drugs in Madison or Green Bay?”

  Kathy’s jaw tightened. Obviously, she didn’t have an answer. Instead she sat back in her chair with a huff. “As I said, I was just following the evidence.”

  Kir shook his head. He accepted that the sheriff had to interview Lynne when the dart gun and sedatives were discovered. But the fact that the older woman had continued to place Lynne at the top of her suspect list, even after it was obvious the items had been stolen, went beyond normal caution.

  “You wanted it to be her why?”

  Kathy glanced toward the bulletin board, as if seeking inspiration. “I wanted the case solved,” she finally muttered. “She looked guilty.”

  “To use your own charming phrase . . . bullshit.”

  “You’re blinded by your feelings for the vet.”

  “I’m not the only one blinded,” he shot back. “I’m at least honest enough to admit my feelings.”

  “You want me to admit my feelings?” There was a brittle pause before Kathy released a sharp bark of laughter. “Fine. I quit.”

  Once again Kir was caught off guard. “Quit?”

  The color drained from Kathy’s face, leaving her looking pale and oddly vulnerable. “When my term as sheriff is over, I’m leaving Pike.”

  “You’re leaving?” Kir struggled to wrap his mind around what she was saying. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Because I’ve discovered what I’ve always feared.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I shouldn’t be a sheriff.” Her gaze moved to the windows that were covered by the thick drapes. It seemed like a metaphor. While his father had cherished the view of the town, Kathy had done everything in her power to block it out. “At least not in Pike.”

  “Is this because of the serial killer?”

  “No, this has been coming for a long time. Probably from the day I took the job.”

  Kir was genuinely dumbfounded. For as long as he could remember, this woman had been working to take his father’s position. She’d started as a part-time juvenile officer before being promoted to a deputy sheriff. Now she was just going to walk away?

  “I don’t understand. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “I thought so.” She ran her hands over the desk, as if trying to find comfort in the faux wood. “But let’s say that it didn’t happen as I expected.”

  “Because of my father’s shooting?”

  “Yes. He was a fixture in this town. They couldn’t imagine anyone else as sheriff. It didn’t help that he was removed from office as a hero.” Her hand moved to touch the star sewn onto the front of her uniform. Her fingers lingered, clearly reluctant to let go of the badge. “I was never given the chance to prove I was up for the job.”

  Kir frowned. She couldn’t be insinuating that his father’s tragic misfortune was the reason she’d failed? “That wasn’t his fault.”

  “Maybe not.” She hunched a shoulder. “But it was easier to blame him than to blame myself.”

  “Why would you blame yourself?”

  Kathy studied his face, as if searching for some hidden emotion. “Your father never told you, did he?”

  “Told me what?”

  She rose to her feet, pacing toward a shelf that held several potted plants. Kir wondered how they survived without sunlight.

  “He wasn’t supposed to be on duty that night,” Kathy blurted out, her back to him.

  Kir gripped the arms of his chair. “The night he was shot?”

  She nodded. “It was my shift.”

  The floor seemed to buckle beneath Kir. As if his entire world had just been turned upside down.

  For eighteen years he’d lived with the repercussions of that night. The months of painful physical therapy after his father had left the hospital. The deep depression after Rudolf learned he couldn’t return to his job. The drinking. The fights with his mother until she’d packed her bags to leave forever.

  “Why did my dad take the call?” he finally demanded.

  She kept her back turned. “I was home with . . . with the flu.”

  There was something dodgy in her answer. Why? It had been a Friday night. Had she been out with a boyfriend? Maybe a girlfriend? Had there been a party she couldn’t bear to miss?

  “So . . .” His mouth felt so dry he could barely speak.

  “I should have been the one shot.” She turned to face him, her expression defensive.

  Kir wanted to agree. How different would his life have been if Rudolf hadn’t been injured? Certainly the older man would have stayed as the sheriff, and it was doubtful he would ever have become an alcoholic, which meant his mother might very well have stayed.

  Then again, would he have developed the grim drive needed to start his own business? Or have learned to search for loyalty and kindness and independence in the woman he hoped to make his wife?

  Who could say?

  He released a slow, shaky breath. “No one should have been shot,” he forced himself to say.

  “If I hadn’t called in sick—”

  “The only one who is guilty is Delbert Frey,” he interrupted. He didn’t feel sympathy for Kathy Hancock. She wasn’t a victim of circumstances. She’d made choices that had consequences. But she hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger. There was only one person who had destroyed Rudolf Jansen’s life. “And he’s dead.”

  Her mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I might have accepted that if the entire town didn’t whisper behind my back, blaming me.”

  Kir snorted. “That’s your imagination.”

  “And I suppose your father’s resentment was my imagination as well?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. For all of Rudolf Jansen’s many faults, he was never one to cower and point fingers at others. He took his hits on the chin and kept his mouth shut. It didn’t make him right or wrong, that was just how he was. “My father never held you responsible.”

  “He did. It was in his eyes.” Her voice rose an octave, her face darkening to a weird shade of magenta. “Just as it was in your eyes.”

  Kir shoved himself out of the chair, surprised to discover that his legs threatened to buckle. Long ago he’d been stupid enough to get
into a boxing ring with a friend who’d challenged him to a bout. The friend had promised he wouldn’t hit him in the face, and Kir had ridiculously assumed that gave him the upper hand. It’d taken three body blows to send him to his knees.

  He felt exactly like he did then.

  “My eyes?” He met her accusing gaze with a frown. “I didn’t even know you were supposed to be on duty.”

  She licked her lips. “No, but you thought I was responsible for ignoring your father’s warnings that there was a serial killer in town.”

  “You did.”

  “No one believed him.” She clenched her hands, glaring at him in frustration. “He told a thousand crazy stories. But then the women started dying and you returned with your judgmental attitude. That’s why . . .” Her words trailed away.

  “Why what?”

  Something raw and painful darkened the woman’s eyes. “I suppose that’s why I wanted to believe Lynne was responsible for the killings.”

  Kir tried to follow her convoluted logic. An impossible task. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It was obvious from the moment you returned to Pike that you had a thing for Dr. Lynne Gale. It would have served you right if she was the killer.”

  Kir flinched. It was one thing for Kathy to behave like a petulant child because she didn’t feel like she was getting the respect she deserved. Or to bluff her way through a job she was obviously incompetent to hold. It was another to try and land an innocent woman in jail. Or worse, to allow the people she was supposed to protect to be hunted like animals. “You know, your petty insecurities might very well be the reason Rita and all the others are dead.”

  The color once again receded from her face, leaving her a shocking shade of ash. “I realize that now. Too late.”

  Kir swallowed his words of fury. There was no way to change the past. The woman’s selfish decisions had created havoc in Pike, but right now it was more important to concentrate on the future.

  “Maybe not too late. What do you know about the night my dad was shot?”