While Harvey again made a dismissive gesture, Sheriff Wilkins stood and approached Ryan, saying quietly into his ear, “I want a word with you later about your living arrangements here in Bethesda.”
Ryan sighed. This was not going to plan at all. Then Kitty’s voice rang out across the hall, far louder than he’d thought her capable of.
“The real reason Harvey doesn’t want to make a complaint about me is because he lied in court about the night of Molly’s murder,” she said. “And he doesn’t want the police asking any awkward questions.”
She was walking down the middle aisle, between the rows of chairs, hair piled high in a messy bun, tendrils falling on her face. She had made a little more effort with her clothes that day, wearing tailored pants and a blouse.
“Perhaps now isn’t the best time to be doing this, Kitty,” Ryan said, jumping from the stage and approaching her. “Tensions are running too high.”
She ignored his advice, as he’d suspected she would.
“Your CCTV footage from that night wasn’t lost, was it, Harvey? You deliberately destroyed it.”
A hush fell as numerous people looked from Kitty to the barman and back, clearly shocked at this sudden showdown.
“That’s not true,” Harvey said. “I wish you’d drop all this nonsense, Kitty.”
She stopped in her tracks and stared him down. “There was another man who arrived at the bar just after midnight, wasn’t there? He got there soon after Molly’s death. I received a call from my newest witness today. He says he remembered something else about that night which might be relevant. He claims you let a man in the back door and there was an argument between the two of you in the corridor. You told the guys in the bar that it was an old friend looking for a place to stay. So I want to know who he was and why you didn’t tell the police about him.”
Harvey stepped forward. “I saw the article about your witness in the newspaper. I remember him coming into the bar and drinking whiskey until he passed out. He’s a drunk just like your father, nothing but a deadbeat drunk who probably can’t remember what he ate for breakfast this morning let alone what he saw and heard a couple of years ago.”
Kitty cheeks reddened. “Having an alcohol addiction doesn’t make him a deadbeat.”
“Oh, come on, Kitty,” Harvey said angrily. “Stop kidding yourself that your dad’s a good guy. He served eight years in prison.”
“That was a long time ago. He’s changed.”
“Guys like that don’t change. Once a felon, always a felon.”
“No,” she shouted. “You don’t really know him.”
Harvey laughed, but it seemed forced. “I know that he never loved you as much as he loved the booze. His brain was fried by it.”
Kitty’s face seemed to break, beginning with her brows, then moving to her eyes, cheeks and mouth. Ryan put a hand on her forearm.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
She pushed him away and pointed at Harvey.
“You’re the one who kept feeding Dad alcohol and taking his money,” she shouted in the quiet hall. “You knew that my mom’s death destroyed him and you used his grief to increase your profits. Your bar was practically his second home for ten years.” A tear fell, and she quickly brushed it away. “The only thing wrong with my father’s brain is that it told him you were a friend, when you were only ever his enemy. If anyone here deserves to feel shame, it’s you, Harvey.”
A few gasps were audible in the silence and Harvey stood immobile, hands thrust into his pockets. From the looks of it, the truths she told him had hit home. He hung his head.
“I recently decided to close the bar and start over somewhere else,” he said. “I hope that helps bring everybody in Bethesda some closure.”
“No,” she retorted. “Closure only happens when you start telling the truth about the night of the murder.”
Harvey shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and walked to the exit. Kitty watched him leave, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. Ryan studied her in reluctant admiration. Despite her being wrong on this matter, she fought her case with passion and pride, refusing to bow to the criticism of the crowd. She stood alone and yet she stood tall. He felt an unwelcome attraction to her beginning to develop. That was the last thing he needed.
“Okay, folks,” he called out. “The show’s over. Let’s all go home and calm down, and if you have any information, come see me at the station.” He looked at Frank as he added, “No more public meetings about this, okay?”
Ryan then steered Kitty to a nearby vacant chair and encouraged her to sit, which she did, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands.
“I just wanted to lay flowers on Molly’s grave,” she said. “I miss her, too.” She took the clip from her hair and allowed the loose strands to cascade down her shoulders. “I used to babysit for her when she was little, and we had a strong bond. I intended to be really quick at the graveside so that no one would notice me. The last thing I wanted was to upset her parents. It was a bad idea.”
Ryan crouched at her side, one knee on the floor, as the hall emptied. “It was a terrible idea, Kitty, not least because you put yourself in harm’s way. I thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t leave the house without telling me where you’re headed.”
“Like my very own bodyguard,” she said, imitating Frank’s mocking tone. “I don’t want to be tied to someone who openly wants my dad to spend the rest of his life in prison.”
He couldn’t deny his deep disgust for her father and his crime. Harry didn’t deserve to breathe free air again for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help how I feel.”
“And I can’t help how I feel, either. I needed to leave the house to follow up my new lead.”
“You mean the phone call from your witness?”
“He said he remembered Harvey arguing with a man late that night,” she said. “Harvey deliberately covered it up.”
Ryan didn’t quite know how to say this, so he just came out with it. “A man with an alcohol dependency isn’t likely to accurately remember what happened two years ago. His testimony is too unreliable for you to get excited about it.”
A deliberate cough sounded in his vicinity and Ryan looked up to see Sheriff Wilkins standing over him, thumbs hooked into his belt loops.
“Sorry to break up this little party,” the sheriff said with obvious disapproval. “But can I have a word with you now, Ryan?”
“Sure,” he said, rising and whispering to Kitty, “I’ll only be a few minutes, so don’t go anywhere, okay?”
She nodded her understanding.
Sheriff Wilkins led him to the side of the hall, his expression stern. “What’s this about you living down at the Linklater house?”
“I rent an apartment there,” he explained. “It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal,” the sheriff retorted. “You know I’m retiring soon and I think you’d make a perfect replacement, but how do you think the folks of this county will feel when they hear you’re cavorting with the daughter of a convicted killer?”
“I’m not cavorting with her, Jim. She’s in danger down there. She needs my help.”
“And she’ll get all the help she needs from the sheriff’s department when she calls to report an attack, just like anyone else. We’ll all look after her, Ryan. But you can’t afford to be personally associated with her, and if you don’t put a stop to this little friendship you can kiss my endorsement goodbye come election time. You can start by finding yourself another place to live. Do I make myself clear?”
Ryan rubbed his forehead. This had to be one of the worst days in his career.
“Yes, sir. You’re perfectly clear.”
“Good.”
He stalked off toward Shane, adjusting his hat as he went, leaving Ryan to consi
der his predicament. As much as he didn’t want to ruin his reputation in town—and his chance at becoming sheriff—this could be a matter of life-and-death for Kitty. He couldn’t simply abandon her, no matter what anyone said.
He turned around, only to see Kitty’s chair empty.
“Oh, Kitty,” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you stay still for five minutes?”
He walked to the back of the empty hall and opened the door. He saw people returning to their cars and homes, no doubt discussing the high drama they’d witnessed, but he did not see Kitty. Then he heard a scream, a shrill and penetrating shriek that caused his anxiety to surge.
The scream had come from the woods.
FOUR
Kitty’s scream died away as a hand once again clamped over her mouth.
She had never intended to put herself in harm’s way, but she’d been careless. She’d wanted to leave the stifling hall, simmering hot with the righteous anger of the town, and escape into the night air, where a light and cool rain had begun to fall. And with all the people around her, she had assumed she would be safe to wait for Ryan while sitting inside her car. How wrong she had been.
She had stupidly parked her car in the far corner of the lot, an unlit and secluded place—a decision that no doubt reflected her sense of seclusion in Bethesda. Once she had reached her vehicle and delved into her pocket for the key, a man had sprung from behind her, dragging her quickly and silently into the dense woodland opposite the town hall. His hand across her mouth meant she could only squeal and struggle futilely. Thankfully, a swift elbow to his stomach allowed her to gain a second or two to let out a yell of alarm.
She was dragged past tree after tree, her heels digging into the soil and turning up the earth. She clawed at passing branches, but they slid through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but handfuls of soggy leaves. Her attacker’s arms were thin, but sinewy and muscled, and she felt them tense beneath his baggy sweatshirt as he finally pressed her, face forward, to the trunk of a nearby tree. She turned her head to the side, breathing heavily through her nose, her lips pinched and bruised beneath his tight fingers.
Then a knife glinted in the dying light, inches from her face. It was covered in tiny water droplets clinging to the steel from the misty rain that was falling. Kitty reacted instantly, bucking like a horse, determined that the blade would not touch her skin, but she could only flinch in horror as she felt its sharp edge against her cheek. A stinging sensation made her shiver as blood trickled down onto her neck, into the collar of her blouse. Although she could not see the man’s face, she sensed his enjoyment at the sight of her blood.
Someone was shouting her name close by. Her attacker heard it, too, and responded by moving the knife to his side and dragging her around the tree, its huge trunk concealing them from view. He pinned her against the bark, his hand forced down so heavily on her mouth that she grew light-headed. His masked face was millimeters from hers, his eyes barely visible through the tiniest of slits. He was perfectly still, waiting, the knife poised at her throat.
Kitty saw Ryan run straight past, gun in hand, heading farther into the woods to search for her. She wanted to shout, but could only murmur. As she watched him continue, her belly flipped over. Soon he would be out of sight and she would be alone with a murderous man, under the blade of his knife.
Once Ryan was far enough away, she felt sure this cruel man would dispatch her quickly and disappear into the woods. The seconds were ticking by, and Ryan’s figure was rapidly being swallowed by the mist. She had to do something, make a noise or movement, anything to catch his attention—without spooking her attacker into slitting her throat. Slowly, surreptitiously, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her keys, which had a flashlight key ring. After pressing the button, she shook the keys in her hand, sending the beam of light dancing among the trees.
Ryan stopped, obviously noticing the glimmer. When he turned and began to run back, Kitty sagged with relief. Her assailant pulled away from her and she dropped to her knees, her legs suddenly unable to take her full weight. As she panted in the dirt, catching her breath, Ryan pounded past in pursuit of the masked man. Kitty could only watch as Ryan leaped in the air, coming down on the running figure, grappling him to the ground, where they began to scuffle, rolling over in the wet leaves.
More voices echoed among the trees and numerous footsteps could be heard running their way. Kitty recognized the voices of Carla and Joe from the restaurant, Nancy and Paul from the grocery store.
Nancy appeared in her line of sight and called out, “We heard a scream. Is that you, Kitty?”
“Go back,” shouted Ryan, as he wrestled with the masked man. “Get out of here.”
More townspeople appeared and they watched the commotion, eyes wide. Paul and Nancy approached Kitty, helping her to her feet, brushing her down.
“Ryan wants us to go,” Kitty panted. “It’s dangerous.”
“Shouldn’t we help?” Paul asked. “There’s only one of him but a bunch of us.”
This comment seemed to fire up Joe, who pushed up his sleeves and said, “Whoever this guy is, he picked on the wrong town.”
With that, he rushed forward, closely followed by a few other male onlookers. As they approached the fighting men, Ryan called, “No!” But Joe made an attempt to grab Kitty’s attacker by his shirt.
Joe’s effort to assist backfired, as his intervention caused Ryan to loosen his grasp, allowing the man to jump to his feet and pull a gun from an inside pocket. Holding his weapon in the air, he fired a shot that reverberated through the woods. Everybody screamed and dropped to the ground, except Ryan, who pulled his weapon out in response, aiming at the assailant.
They stood only yards apart, guns pointed at each other, a standoff that she could only pray would go Ryan’s way.
* * *
Ryan stared down the barrel of a gun, breathing hard, his protective instincts in overdrive. There must be at least eight townsfolk behind him, including Kitty, and they were in severe danger.
“Slowly put down your weapon and raise your hands in the air,” Ryan said. “Let’s end this right here.”
The man responded by taking a firm step forward and pointing his gun directly at Kitty’s head. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and the unarmed people nearby let out whimpers of alarm.
“If you take a shot, I’ll kill you,” Ryan warned, realizing that a different approach was needed here. This man wouldn’t surrender; if Ryan forced the issue, it would turn into a gunfight. “Be coolheaded and nobody gets hurt. Back away slowly.”
Under the circumstances, Ryan had no choice but to let the guy go. As the people cowered on the ground behind him, he called out reassuringly, “Don’t worry, folks. Keep calm and this will be over soon.”
He watched with seething hostility as the suspect began to take small steps backward, never lowering his gun, facing forward until he had put a fair distance between them. Then he turned and ran. For a split second Ryan considered giving chase, before coming to his senses. His priority was to safeguard those around him.
He turned to Kitty and saw her standing, flanked by Nancy and Paul, blood on one cheek, a deep red stain soaked into the collar of her blouse.
“You’re hurt,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a clean tissue.
She took the tissue from his hand. “It’s just a scratch. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
How on earth could Ryan even consider severing his living arrangement with Kitty now? If she hadn’t managed to scream out, she could be dead by now. Similarly, if he wasn’t at her house when this guy came back, she’d be totally exposed. Calling 9-1-1 might not get help to her fast enough.
“Who was that?” Nancy asked, looking anxiously through the trees. “And what was he doing here?”
Kitty provided an answer before Ryan could speak. “That was the man who killed Molly
, and now he’s trying to kill me, too.”
Carla clicked her tongue in annoyance, having not lost any of the feistiness she’d shown in the town hall. “Don’t talk nonsense, Kitty. Your father killed Molly and that awful man wants to hurt you because you refuse to believe it.”
“Let’s not speculate about why Kitty is being attacked,” Ryan said. “What’s important is that we pull together to make sure Bethesda remains a safe place for all of us. I’ll be writing a report about this incident, so I’d like as many eyewitness accounts as possible.”
Nancy raised her hand. “Paul and I would be glad to help.”
“Thank you. I’ll take your statements when you’re ready.”
“I hope your report will show that Kitty put the whole town in danger,” Carla said. “That man could’ve hurt any of us.”
“We can’t blame Kitty for that,” Ryan said.
“Can’t we?” Carla retorted. She was clearly shaken by what had just happened. “She’s been telling lies for too long and now she’s got someone angry enough to lash out.” She pressed a palm to her chest. “I thought I was going to die.”
“A violent man like this is a danger to all of us, honey,” Joe said, patting his wife’s shoulder reassuringly. “He’s mad at Kitty today, but who knows what might set him off next? We should do what we can to help the investigation instead of creating more division.”
“I’m not the one creating division here.” Carla folded her arms defiantly. “Next time something like this happens, I won’t come running and put myself in the line of fire.”
Ryan clenched his jaw in irritation. Yes, Kitty was wrong to have visited Molly’s grave. Yes, she was mistakenly loyal to her father. And yes, she had stupidly put herself in danger by going outside alone. But she didn’t deserve this, not by a long shot.
“I know you’ll all be keen to get home so I’ll be available to take statements at the station from eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said to the small crowd of people. “I’d appreciate seeing as many of you as possible. If you’d like to make your way toward the parking lot now, I’ll bring up the rear and have your backs, okay?”
Innocent Target Page 5
