his finger. “That means this was placed on your shed sometime after you went to work yesterday morning and before midnight.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Nash.”
“He’s the obvious choice,” Kir agreed. He tried to imagine the man driving to Lynne’s house and then creeping around the yard to put the photo on the shed. Why not put it on the front door, or even in the mailbox where Lynne would be sure to see it? Then he abruptly recalled Nash storming away. “When he left last night he used the kitchen door. Do you know where he was parked?”
Lynne made a face. “He always blocks the alley when he comes here. He’s afraid his truck might get scratched if he leaves it on the street.”
Kir’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. Now it made sense. “It would have been easy for him to hook the photo on the shed before coming to the house.”
“I suppose.”
Kir arched his brows. “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”
She reached to pull the photo closer, trying to hide her revulsion as she studied the picture of herself.
“Nash hates computers,” she at last continued, pointing toward the red ribbon that had been electronically added to the image. “I’m not sure he even knows how to turn one on, let alone be capable of using Photoshop.”
Kir couldn’t argue. It was an easy enough process, but if Nash truly didn’t know anything about computers, it seemed more likely he would have used a red marker to draw on the ribbon. It would have achieved the same effect.
“Who else would have a picture of you sleeping?”
She released a shaky breath, leaning forward to study the picture. “Wait.” She suddenly pointed toward the top corner of the photo where the paneled wall was visible. “This isn’t my bedroom. This is the couch at the clinic.”
Kir jerked in surprise. The location changed everything. “Do you sleep there often?”
She nodded. “If I’m out on a late call I’ll sometimes take a nap during my lunch break, or if there’s an animal in need of 24/7 care I’ll spend the night.”
“That means anyone could have taken this picture.” The clinic wasn’t huge, but it was busy with people constantly coming and going.
Not to mention the various animals added a layer of chaos that meant it would be easy to sneak past the distracted staff to Lynne’s private office.
“Yeah,” she agreed with a shiver.
The scent of coffee had Kir spinning back to fill two large mugs before he returned to the table and took a seat. “Nash is still at the top of the list,” he told Lynne, refusing to give up on his prime suspect. “No one would notice him coming or going from your office, and we know he walked past the shed last night.”
She looked unconvinced, but suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot. There was a shadow.”
“What shadow?”
“I was standing there last night.” She pointed toward the window. “And I thought I saw something or someone dart across the yard. When I got to the back door, I saw Nash pulling into the alley.”
“So he couldn’t be the shadow?”
“No.”
Kir’s jaw tightened. Why was she working so hard to find someone besides Nash to blame as the potential killer? Did she still have feelings for the jerk?
The thought was more disturbing than it should have been.
With an effort, he resisted the urge to force her to admit that her ex-lover was more than likely a serial killer. “I don’t suppose you have security cameras?” he asked.
She lifted her brows at the question. “In Pike?”
“Crime is everywhere.” He deliberately glanced at the photo. “The good citizens of Pike aren’t saints.”
She sighed. “No, there are no security cameras.”
Kir sipped his coffee, silently sorting through various means of discovering who had been in Lynne’s backyard. The options were seriously limited.
“Maybe one of your neighbors noticed something.”
“Doubtful.” She squashed his one hope. “Cal and Denise live on the other side of the alley, but they spend the winter in Arizona. And my nearest neighbor, Mrs. Norris, is nearly blind.”
He muttered a curse. “Everyone in town would know they could enter your backyard with no one noticing.”
“Probably.”
A surge of fury raced through Kir. Not toward Lynne. But toward the lunatic who was stalking the women of Pike.
He tapped his finger on the photo. “Whoever left this was sending a warning, Lynne.”
Her face was pale, but she was obviously battling against the urge to panic. “We don’t know that it was from the killer. It could