remembered the spare set. When I came in here . . .” The rest of the words stuck in her throat.
“When was the last time you saw it?”
“I don’t remember. I haven’t needed it for months, so I never checked.” She shuddered. It made her sick to think the killer must have been creeping around her clinic. Maybe even more than once. After all, someone had taken that picture of her sleeping in this office. And now her key was missing. “God.” The word burst out of her, coming from the stewing frustration in the pit of her stomach. “It was so stupid to leave it here, but there have been times when another vet had to borrow my truck. It made sense to make a copy and leave it in a place someone could grab it and go.”
Kir moved to crouch next to her chair, grasping her chilled hands in the warmth of his fingers. “It’s okay, Lynne. None of this is your fault.”
His touch allowed her to suck in the first deep breath since she’d seen the flashing lights next to the park. Not that she accepted his assurance that she wasn’t at fault. Not when her truck had likely been used during the murder.
“The killer must have gotten into the office and grabbed the key.”
“Did you call the sheriff and tell her it’s missing?”
She nodded. She hadn’t wanted to call. In fact, she’d been close to keeping the theft of the key a secret. Why would she give the sheriff more ammunition to use against her? Then the realization that the information might be the difference between catching the killer or having him continue to hunt the women of Pike had her reaching for her phone.
“Yeah, I left a message,” she muttered. “I doubt they were back to the station yet.”
“Did they say how long they were going to keep your truck?”
She snorted, recalling Kathy’s hard expression as she’d ordered Anthony to confiscate the truck.
“I’m guessing as long as possible. The sheriff is convinced I’m involved. And honestly, I think she just doesn’t like me, for whatever reason.”
He squeezed her fingers. “You can use my dad’s truck. It’s old but it runs fine.”
She studied his fierce male features, which had somehow become wondrously familiar. She couldn’t imagine going through the past few days without him at her side. Actually, it was becoming increasingly difficult to imagine her life without him. . . .
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He held her gaze, his expression grim. “The killer’s playing with you.”
Lynne shivered at his blunt words. “Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it.”
The thought made her stomach clench with terror. “People wander in and out of this clinic every day. I could have been a convenient target.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No, but I want to believe that,” she whispered.
He didn’t chide her for her childish desire to stick her head in the sand. Instead he glanced toward the drawer she’d left open. “How did the killer know the key was there?” he asked, speaking more to himself than her. “And if the killer was able to walk in and out of your office, why didn’t he take the drugs at the same time?” He glanced back at Lynne. “It’s more and more likely the killer was Nash. I’m assuming he was in your office often enough to have seen the spare key, plus he could have taken the picture of you sleeping. And he’s already admitted he stole the drugs. It would be easy enough for him to lie and claim he sold them to some mystery man in Grange.”
She shook her head. It just didn’t make any sense. “Why would Nash kill those other women and not me?”
Frustration tightened his jaw. “I can’t find the pattern, and it’s driving me nuts.” He slowly straightened, lifting his hand to tick off the names of the women on his fingers. “First, Sherry Higgins, the owner of a trailer park on the edge of town who was single, but had occasional lovers live with her. Second, Randi Decker, a married woman with a child who ran a flower shop and lived in a fancy house far away from the trailer park. And now a retired third-grade teacher. Did she have any children?”
“Not that I know of. She never married. I don’t think I ever heard of her dating anyone. She was the typical spinster.”
He grunted in aggravation. “They were all different ages, different levels of income, and different careers. What do they have in common?”
“Could it