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