light?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
There was the sound of a click and a barren bulb in the center of the ceiling glowed to life, revealing the damp, musty space. There wasn’t much to see. A washer and dryer along one stone wall, a hot water heater, a bookcase with well-used paperback books. And in the very center of the dirt floor was a three-foot safe.
“Shit.” Kir’s gaze was locked on the safe’s door, which was wide open. “Someone was in here.”
“Are you sure?” Lynne forced herself to follow Kir as he surged forward. “Maybe your father lost the key.”
Kneeling down, he grabbed the crowbar that had been left beside the safe. “He would have had a new one made. He wouldn’t have had the strength to use this.”
That was true. In the past few years Rudolf had lost enough weight to make him appear gaunt. It was doubtful he could have wedged open a steel door. Even with a crowbar.
“Do you know what was in there?”
“Most of his important documents I took to Boston with me,” Kir told her in absent tones. “I was afraid they might get lost. But his gun is gone, along with the bullets.”
He knelt down, pulling out the only object left in the safe. A large shoebox. Flicking off the lid, Kir peered inside.
Lynne could tell by his disappointed expression that the letters weren’t there. “Empty?”
“Yep.” He dropped the box and straightened. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lynne didn’t argue. She desperately wanted out of the dismal cellar. How could anyone breathe in the dark, cramped space?
Once back in the kitchen, Lynne sucked in the relatively fresh air and studied Kir’s tense expression. “Do you think someone broke in after your father died?”
His nod was jerky. “I do.”
“For the gun?”
“I think the gun was taken to cover up the truth of what the thief really wanted,” he said. “The letters.”
His face had paled, the blue of his eyes darkened with worry. She understood. It was one thing to talk about Rudolf receiving letters from a mystery person, but now they had a dead woman, and someone willing to break into Rudolf ’s home and destroy his safe.
“Why risk stealing them?” she asked.
“Fingerprints. DNA.” A grim smile twisted his lips. “Proof my father wasn’t crazy.”
She reached to touch his arm, her heart melting with sympathy. Kir had just buried his father, but for the past eighteen years he’d been mourning the loss of the man he’d once loved. She couldn’t even imagine how hard it had been to live in this house, watching Rudolf fade from a respected sheriff to the town drunk. “No one thought that, Kir.”
He didn’t argue, instead he covered her hand and squeezed her fingers in a tight grip. “What if he was right, Lynne?”
“About a killer in Pike?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth suddenly felt dry. “There haven’t been any murders. Not until today.”
“Maybe the killer was hunting in other towns and the bodies haven’t been found. Or maybe . . .”
“Or maybe what?
He scrubbed his face with his hands and Lynne was suddenly aware of the weariness that was etched into his face.
“Maybe something just triggered him. I don’t know.” He reached for his coat. “I’m probably overreacting, but I didn’t listen when my dad was alive. The least I can do is attempt and figure out what he was trying to tell me from the grave.”
“What are you going to do?”
He tugged on his jacket, the air of weariness replaced by a ruthless determination. “I’m going to take a drive.”
“To where?”
He headed out of the kitchen. “To the place they found the woman.”
She hesitated. She should return to the clinic. Although both of her interns had recently graduated from veterinary school and were perfectly capable of dealing with the daily routine, she preferred to be close by in case they had questions. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
Not only was she even more worried about Kir than before, but she also wanted the same answers that he did.
Who killed Sherry Higgins? And did it have anything to do with the letters Rudolf might or might not have received? Why had Rudolf given Pastor Ron the strange list of initials? And why not send it directly to Kir if he wanted his son to have it?
This all might be a wild-goose chase. As Kir had said, they could be overreacting to events that had simple explanations. But until she was sure, she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.
She marched into the living