“No. All quiet.”
“So what are your plans today?” he asked, sitting down and buttering some toast.
“This morning I’ll be writing an article for a women’s magazine about how to declutter your home.” She grimaced. “It’s not the kind of work I’d normally do, but it pays the bills.” She sat at the table. “Unfortunately, my reputation as a serious journalist took a hit after my articles for the Comanche Times went out. None of the respectable Oklahoma papers seem to want my services anymore. They’re worried I’ll try and use them to publish more articles about my father.”
“It’ll pick up,” he said. “Just you wait and see.”
“Hmm,” she said. “I’m not so sure. I got an email from the editor of the Comanche Times this morning asking me to take a sabbatical. They want to let the heat die down before I submit another piece.”
“Well, when you’ve finished your article for the women’s magazine, let me take a look.” He smiled. “I could use some advice on how to declutter.”
She drew a circle with her fingernail on the kitchen table, wanting to raise an issue but knowing that Ryan was likely to have a problem with it. “After I write the article, I’d hoped to go and visit my dad.”
“You can’t drive to the Oklahoma State Penitentiary by yourself,” Ryan said. “Does it have to be today?”
Kitty hadn’t seen her father in over a week. She was his only visitor, his only source of contact with the outside world, and he would be missing her.
“I really wanted to go today,” she said. “He always expects me on Thursdays.”
“Can you delay it until tomorrow instead? And I’ll be able to accompany you.”
“You can’t make it this afternoon?”
“I’ve taken a lot of time off since I started working in Bethesda, so I should put in a full day today.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sheriff Wilkins might start asking questions if he gets wind of it.”
Ryan had delivered that last comment with a smile, but she sensed a slight antagonism toward the sheriff. He and Ryan had exchanged heated words at the town hall and the aftermath was clearly lingering. Perhaps the sheriff had taken exception to the time his chief deputy was devoting to dealing with her situation.
“Okay,” she said, not wanting to put him out any more than she had already. “We’ll go tomorrow instead. I’ll call the prison today and give them advance notice.”
“Great.” He reached for his hat on the chair next to him. “Remember to keep yourself locked in nice and safe. No open windows, okay?”
Disappointment settled as she imagined her father’s dejected expression when he realized he wouldn’t be receiving a visit today. Both she and her dad were imprisoned, forced to serve time for a crime they didn’t commit.
Ryan traced a finger very tenderly along her cheek, just below the cut that had been made by the attacker’s knife.
“That’s healing quickly,” he said. “It’s looking good.”
She turned her head away, feeling awkward under his touch and remembering her resolve not to grow too close to him. Kitty couldn’t imagine herself ever becoming close to a man, since she could give her heart only to someone who was truly on her side. And what man would place his trust in the daughter of Harry Linklater, the most hated man in the entire state?
“I’ll check in by phone every hour,” Ryan said, making his way to the door. “If you don’t pick up, I’ll come straight over.”
“I’ll make sure to pick up. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
He stopped in the hallway. “You’re not wasting my time, Kitty. So don’t ever think that way.”
She crossed her arms as if defending herself against the sincere kindness in his voice. She didn’t want to be drawn to his caring nature. He clearly wasn’t her true ally. She had no allies.
Ryan stepped out into the drizzly day and stood on the deck, hands on his belt. For a moment, he looked just like one of the statues outside the county museum, noble and dignified and upright.
“Stay inside and keep warm,” he said. “And—”
She cut him off. “And don’t forget to lock up behind you.”
He smiled. “I know I sound like a stuck record, but it’s because I care.”
They stood in silence for a second or two before Ryan walked to his truck. He waved to her, then set off down the lane.
Shadow came running across the yard, crying for attention, so Kitty picked him up, burying her face in the cat’s soft fur. Her feelings for Ryan were troubling and complex and most definitely unwanted.
The question was—how could she rid herself of them?
* * *
Ryan picked up a dead bolt from the shelf at the hardware store, pleased that it felt weighty and strong in his hand. The door to the new panic room in Kitty’s home was pretty tough, but it wouldn’t hurt to add an extra layer of protection.
He walked to the counter and set the bolt down, then reached for his wallet.
Buzz nodded a greeting and rang up the price on the till. “Is this for Kitty’s house?” he asked, taking Ryan’s payment.
“Would you still sell it to me if I said yes?” Ryan replied.
“I would.”
“Then yes, it’s for Kitty’s house.”
Buzz handed him his change. “A friend of mine who works in the big hardware store in Lawton says you ordered one of their security doors a couple of days ago. He says it was real expensive.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. Rural communities had a grapevine where news spread like a forest fire.
“So what kind of setup does Kitty have down at the lake house?” Buzz asked. “It must be like a fortress, huh?”
“It’s secure,” Ryan said. “Why do you want to know?”
Buzz shrugged. “Just curious. If someone’s out to get her then she can’t go taking any chances.”
Ryan put the bolt back down on the counter. “What do you know about someone being out to get Kitty, Buzz?”
“Nothing much,” he said. “Only I know her front door got shot up and kicked in a few days ago. I delivered a new one from our warehouse if you remember.”
“Who told you that her front door was shot up?”
“You did.”
“No, I didn’t. I told you that someone tried to break in. I didn’t tell you he shot through the door.” Ryan folded his arms. “So how come you knew?”
Buzz looked a little like a child being reprimanded, guilty, as though he had done something wrong.
“Well, the old door was on the ground, all splintered and cracked, so I just put two and two together,” Buzz said. “It looked like a gun attack to me.”
This was a plausible explanation, but something about Buzz’s cagey demeanor made Ryan’s senses prickle to attention. Buzz was avoiding eye contact, bowing his head, revealing tiny flecks of white in his hair—flecks that looked suspiciously like paint.
“Have you been painting, Buzz?” Ryan asked.
“No, sir.”
“What’s that in your hair?”
Buzz lifted a hand and rubbed his scalp, confusion evident on his face. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “There’s nothing in my hair.”
“Somebody spray painted a message on Kitty’s barn recently. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“No, sir.”
Ryan pulled out his cellphone, deciding that this conversation needed to be recorded. “Can I ask where you were on Tuesday morning, at approximately 2:00 a.m.?”
A voice echoed from the staircase that led to the Prices’ home above the store. “He was at home, sleeping in his bed, Chief Deputy.”
Frank’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs. When he appeared, his face was angry, jaw clenched and eyes tight.
“Ain’t you got anything better to
do than harass the good people of this town?” he said, putting his arm around his grandson, sending Ryan a clear message that Buzz was off-limits. “You’re so obsessed with protecting Kitty Linklater that you see danger everywhere, even in this decent young man here. We recently had Deputy Harmon knocking on our door with a bunch of questions. Now we’ve got you bothering us, too.”
Ryan’s hackles rose at the insinuation that he was behaving unprofessionally.
“I’m not obsessed with Kitty,” he said defensively. “Crimes are being committed and it’s my duty to investigate them. Shane is going house to house, so you’re not being singled out in any way. I just noticed that Buzz has some flecks of white paint in his hair and I want to know why. It’s a simple enough question.”
“Buzz was helping me paint an old cabinet yesterday,” Frank said. “He probably got some splashes in his hair that will take a while to wash out.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Painting old cabinets isn’t a crime, so you got no business interrogating my grandson.”
Frank’s mop of white, curly hair gave him the appearance of a kindly old man, but appearances were deceptive, because at only fifty-nine years of age, Frank was anything but old and certainly not kindly.
“I’m not accusing Buzz of being a criminal,” Ryan said. “I’m making inquiries.”
Frank walked to the front door, opened it wide and said, “Well, go and make your inquiries elsewhere, because you’re not welcome in this store anymore.”
With a sigh of reluctant acceptance, Ryan picked up his dead bolt, tipped his hat politely and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The door was promptly slammed behind him and the blind pulled down. Frank was like a gatekeeper for his grandson and now would be watching Buzz like a hawk, never allowing Ryan near him.
“Hey, boss,” Shane called out, standing in the doorway of the station a little farther down the street. “I’m guessing you diverted your cell to the office—there’s a personal call for you.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, slipping the bolt into his pocket.
When he stepped into the station, Shane handed him the phone with a knowing smile. “Kitty Linklater for you, sir.”
Ryan took the handset with a feeling of annoyance. It was becoming apparent that the town of Bethesda was gossiping about him and Kitty. It was unfair.
“Hello, Kitty,” he said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, there’s no problem here. I just wanted to add you to Dad’s visitor list for tomorrow. It usually takes a few days for approval, but with you being a member of law enforcement, the prison officials said they’ll be fine with you coming along. I only need to know your badge number.”
He took a moment to fully understand what she was saying. Did she really think he intended to accompany her inside the prison, to sit with her father, to look him in the eye?
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. “I never wanted to meet your father. I’ll wait outside for you, in the truck.”
“Oh,” she said with clear disappointment. “Why didn’t you say so before? I told you earlier that I’d be calling the prison to let them know we’ll be visiting tomorrow. Why would I do that if not to add you to the list? I wouldn’t need to tell them that I’m visiting—I’m already on the approved list.”
“Perhaps I wasn’t paying close enough attention to what you were saying, but there’s no way I’d ever agree to be on your father’s visitor list.”
“Why not?”
“I refuse to sit at the same table as a child killer.” He knew his tone was harsh. “Under no circumstances will I meet your father.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I know how you feel about my dad, but I thought you could take this opportunity to see for yourself what kind of man he is. He’s—”
“No,” Ryan said, stopping her before she could finish her sentence. “I know what kind of a man he is. I don’t need to look into his eyes to confirm it.”
“Please, Ryan. If you could just give him one minute of your time, I’d be really grateful. If you never want to see him again after that, I’ll respect your decision.”
Ryan rubbed his forehead, his agitation increasing. “Maybe I’m not making myself clear here, Kitty. Your dad is in the same prison as the man who killed my sister. And they’re both where they belong. Neither of them deserves any visitors at all, in my view.” An image of Gina flashed across his mind, her pigtails trailing in the wind as she ran. “If you want to visit a man who murdered a beautiful young girl, then that’s your right, but I choose to stay away.”
She went quiet for a while. “Look, I caught you off guard with this—you’re making a snap decision. We can talk later. Will you at least think about it?”
“No, I won’t think about it, and neither will I change my mind. It’s not just about my personal feelings. I also have my professional reputation to think about. If the prison officials see me visiting Harry Linklater, they’ll assume I’m crazy or stupid. Or both.”
“When you made the decision to rent the apartment, you said your reputation could take a hit.” Annoyance was creeping into her voice. “Or was that a lie?”
“The warden of Oklahoma Penitentiary knows me well, and he’s been good to me and my family over the years, keeping us informed of any developments in Cody Jones’s parole hearings. I would be ashamed if he saw me visiting a child killer.”
“Do you think I should be ashamed of myself?” she asked, her voice eerily flat and calm, perhaps holding back a flood of anger.
“That’s a matter for your own conscience,” he said.
“I see,” she hissed. “If that’s how you feel, then perhaps it would be a good idea if you found someplace else to live. I’ll raise the money for the new cellar door and pay you back.”
Ryan realized that he had perhaps gone too far and had failed to understand the situation from her side of the fence. Kitty wasn’t being intentionally difficult—she was simply speaking her version of the truth.
“Don’t be rash. I think you’re a good person who tries very hard to do the right thing. It’s your father I have an issue with, not you.”
“It amounts to the same thing in my mind,” she said, her voice rising. “If you have an issue with my dad, you have an issue with me. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think this arrangement would work out.”
“Okay, let’s take a breather and talk about this later. We both need to calm down.”
“I’m perfectly calm,” she yelled ironically. “I don’t want to talk about this later. In fact, I don’t want to talk to you for the rest of the day, so please don’t call because I won’t pick up.”
Ryan had let this conversation get way out of control.
“You’re putting your life in danger because we had a fight?” he said. “That’s crazy.”
“Haven’t you worked it out by now, Ryan?” she shouted. “I am crazy. Just ask anyone in Bethesda and they’ll tell you I’m the crackpot daughter of a local murderer.”
“Please don’t do this, Kitty.”
But she had already clicked off the phone.
“Trouble in paradise, huh, boss?” Shane said with a smirk.
Ryan shot him a look that told the deputy to back off. “Don’t start, Shane.”
Placing the phone back on the receiver, Ryan wondered whether Kitty would go through with her threat to evict him. He wasn’t sure. But the worst part was that the thought of being freed from her complicated, problematic life actually made him relieved. He never wanted to argue with her about her repugnant father again, or justify his living arrangements to the sheriff, or suffer the knowing smirks of Shane. Leaving the Linklater house behind would not only lift a burden, but would ensure he could successfully be elected county sheriff.
But then his mind conjured up a vision of Kitty’s face, with the tiny cut running across one che
ek, and her dark eyes imploring someone to help her. However much he wanted to be rid of the difficulties she’d created in his life, he could never abandon her. Not until she was safe.
* * *
Kitty screamed into the silence, a long guttural wail that let out all her frustration and fury. How could she ever have worried about allowing herself to get too close to Ryan? It should’ve been obvious that sooner or later they would have a big bust-up.
She paced the hallway like a caged animal, arms crossed and lips pinched, breathing hard. How dare Ryan imply that she should be ashamed of visiting her father. He was letting his background cloud his judgment again, and she was deeply hurt by his comments. She wanted to understand his point of view, but she also desperately wanted him to give her father a chance. There was no way she and Ryan could live under the same roof with such fundamental differences. She resolved to enforce a move-out day. She’d find a way to manage financially without him.
“I gotta get out of here,” she said out loud, feeling the walls close in on her.
She snatched up her car keys and contemplated leaving the house. Home felt restrictive...but also safe. Her pulse began racing at the thought of venturing outside alone.
“You can do this, Kitty,” she told herself. “Nothing bad has happened in almost two days.”
But a little voice rang inside her head, saying, Two days isn’t a long time.
She hung the keys back on the hook and turned to walk into the kitchen, feeling her heart sink at her lack of courage and her lack of conviction in her own ability to protect herself. How on earth was she going to manage without Ryan in the house if she didn’t even have the confidence to step outside the front door?
“This is ridiculous,” she said, picking up her purse from a chair in the kitchen. “I have to learn to take care of myself.”
She unzipped the purse, took out her gun, checked that it was loaded and carefully placed it back inside. She also checked that her cell was fully charged and that she had enough money for gas. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder, picked up her coat and walked down the hallway.
Innocent Target Page 7
