the scene where each woman was taken.” She pulled her hand out, revealing a plastic bag that contained two silver tubes with a hollow needle at one end and a plastic stopper with wings at the other end. “Do you recognize these?”
Prepared to be told that one of her friends had been murdered, it took Lynne a second to focus on the darts in the plastic bag. “They look like the ones I use,” she admitted. “But so do a dozen other people in the area.”
Kathy looked surprised. “Who else?”
“Farmers, conservation officers, animal control.” Lynne shrugged. “Even a few hunters.”
The sheriff nodded. It was hard to tell if she was pleased or disappointed to know that the darts were readily available in Pike. “And you have tranquilizers in your clinic?”
“Of course.”
“Can you tell me what kind?”
“Xylazine. Medetomidine. Telazol.” Lynne shrugged. “A few others, including a form of cocaine for extreme cases.”
Kathy pushed the bag back into her pocket. “I assume you keep all your drugs locked away?”
Lynne frowned. She understood the sheriff had to ask questions. The two dead women had seemingly been hit with tranq darts before they were killed. A veterinarian clinic was an obvious place to start the investigation.
Still, she couldn’t prevent herself from bristling defensively at the hint of censure in the woman’s tone. It sounded as if she suspected Lynne of being sloppy in keeping dangerous drugs off the street.
“I follow very strict protocols when it comes to keeping my medications stored.”
“Do you mind if I see?”
“Certainly not.” Lynne squared her shoulders to a rigid angle, waving her hand toward the nearby hallway. “This way.”
“Dr. Gale,” Chelsea said, her tone urgent.
“I’ll be right back, Chelsea.”
Leading the sheriff to the end of the hallway, she unlocked the steel door and shoved it open. The spacious room with high ceilings and bright lights had once been the kennels, but Lynne had built a separate space for the animals who were waiting for surgery or too sick to go home behind the clinic. It ensured they weren’t constantly being disturbed by the steady stream of patients.
Now the old kennel was lined with glass and steel cases that could be individually locked as well as steel shelves at the back for the daily office supplies.
Kathy stepped into the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle, her hard gaze missing nothing.
“Who has the key to the cabinets?” she at last demanded.
“There are three of us.” Lynne held up her keychain. “I have one. Chelsea has one. And there’s one for whichever intern is on duty.”
The sheriff took out a notebook and pencil from beneath her parka. “Could someone have made a copy?”
“Theoretically.” Lynne didn’t believe for a second any of her employees would make copies of her keys. She trusted them without question. “Why?”
“Would you know if there were any sedatives missing?”
“Absolutely.” Lynne reached out to grab the clipboard that was hanging on the wall and crossed to stand next to the sheriff. “Each prescription is logged in when it’s stocked and anyone who removes a vial has to initial the date and time and amount that is used.” She pointed to the column that listed the drugs and then the squares next to the names that showed who’d removed it from the cabinet. “They’re also recorded into the computer. At the end of the week Chelsea takes an inventory to make sure it all matches.”
Kathy studied the clipboard before glancing back at the cabinets. At last she gave a small shake of her head, as if forced to give up on a promising clue. “Where would someone get these drugs?”
“We have a computer program that tracks the drugs and creates an order from our supplier when we are running low.”
The sheriff nodded, as if making a mental note. “Can anyone order from your supplier?”
“No. You have to be a licensed vet.”
“What about the black market?”
Lynne wasn’t sure how to answer. She’d never had experience with the black market. Then again, she’d gone to enough seminars on safeguarding her prescriptions and the disposal of them after their expiration date to know that it was obviously a problem. “There isn’t the same demand as for prescriptions for humans, but any drug is worth money on the streets,” she conceded.
“And you’re certain that none is missing?”
Lynne was a tolerant woman. You couldn’t be a vet and not have the patience of a saint. But the sense of being interrogated as if she was a criminal was wearing on her nerves.