paper into her hand, slowly unfolding it. “What’s this?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a list of the women being targeted by the serial killer.”
Her head jerked up to stab him with a suspicious glare. “Where did you get it?”
“My father gave it to Ron Bradshaw just a few weeks before he died. He asked the pastor to give it to me after the funeral.”
The sheriff returned her attention to the list. “He didn’t say what it was?”
“No, but the first letters are S. H. Sherry Higgins,” he pointed out.
She visibly stiffened. “We haven’t released the victims’ names.”
“It’s a small town.”
“Yeah, S. H. could stand for a lot of things. It could be a grocery list for all you know.” She dropped the paper as if it was a piece of trash. “In fact, it probably is.”
Kir bent down to angrily snatch the list off the ground, carefully folding it and putting it back in his pocket. “Why would Dad give it to a preacher if it wasn’t important?”
Kathy glanced at down at the tips of her boots, as if pondering her response. Then, lifting her head, she met Kir’s accusing gaze. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, Kir, but over the past few months your father had become increasingly erratic.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He was found wandering the streets late at night searching for his dog that’d been dead for over a year,” she said. “And twice he was found passed out in his truck outside the old Shell filling station.”
Kir winced at the thought of his dad wandering the streets in search of his beloved hound. But the filling station made him frown in confusion. As far as he knew, his father had no connection to the place. “Why would he be at the station? Isn’t it closed down?” He spoke his question out loud.
“He swore a woman had been murdered there.”
“Did you check?”
Kathy narrowed her eyes at his sharp tone. “Yes. My deputies did a thorough search. There was nothing inside but a few rats and lots of dust. He was obviously delusional. Or maybe he was confused. I think there was a woman killed there twenty-five years ago. A botched robbery or something.” She turned and clomped up the stairs, her heavy footsteps warning she was done with this conversation. “Let this go, Kir,” she called over her shoulder. “Your father’s delusions drove him crazy. Don’t let them do the same thing to you.”
Chapter 7
Lynne spent the afternoon at the animal shelter she’d built on her grandparents’ farm. She needed to keep her mind occupied, and her hands busy. What better way than cleaning the kennels and unloading a pallet of dog food? There was also the task of vaccinating the puppies that had been left that morning.
Once she’d returned to her house, however, she found herself pacing the kitchen floor. She had paperwork to do, and dinner to cook, but she couldn’t stop her feet from carrying her from one end of the narrow room to the other. Almost as if the constant movement helped her to endure the pain that was crushing her heart.
It wasn’t pain at the thought of Nash being unfaithful. By the time she’d ended her brief relationship with the creep, she’d accepted that he’d been sleeping with countless women. He was just a loser in a long line of losers.
No, what hurt was the thought that Chelsea had pretended to be her friend and loyal employee even when she was having sex in a storage room with Lynne’s boyfriend. And even worse was the fear that because of Chelsea’s betrayal, some lunatic was using the drugs from her clinic to kidnap and murder innocent women.
God . . .
Her dark thoughts were interrupted by a glimpse of movement in her backyard. She froze, not sure if she’d actually seen a person or if it had been a tree branch swaying beneath the weight of the falling snow.
Moving to grab her cell phone off the kitchen table, Lynne cautiously headed to the back door. Double-checking the lock, she peered through the window. There was a small glow near her garden shed where she’d installed a security light last year, but the rest of the yard remained shrouded in shadows. It was impossible to see if there was anyone out there.
About to turn away, she was halted as headlights sliced through the darkness. Someone was driving up the narrow alley and parking behind her house.
She lifted her phone, preparing to dial 911