an instinctive reaction to the horrifying thought of what Sherry must have suffered. “Do they know who’s responsible?”
“The sheriff isn’t offering any information.” Parker leaned toward her, as if sharing a secret. “But my initial investigation has revealed that Ms. Higgins wasn’t a very nice person. She regularly had families evicted from their homes, she charged outrageous fees for basic services, and she was caught peeking through the windows of her tenants. I would guess there’s going to be an overabundance of suspects.”
Lynne tried to hide her disapproval. She never listened to gossip. It was rarely accurate and always destructive.
“People don’t kill someone for evicting them,” she protested.
Parker snorted. “I’ve known people who will kill someone for spilling their coffee.” He paused, as if considering the murder. “Of course, it’s one thing to strike out in the heat of anger, and quite another to kill someone, strip off their clothes, and arrange the body in the snow like some sort of pagan offering.”
A shudder raced through Lynne. It was disturbing to think such evil could touch her town. “I don’t know her family. Are they in the area?”
“Her parents are dead. She had a live-in boyfriend.” Parker pulled his hand out of the pocket of his long, black coat to glance at his phone. “Wes Klein,” he continued, obviously glancing through the notes he’d already gathered on Sherry Higgins. “She called the sheriff two weeks ago to have him forcibly removed from her trailer.”
Lynne took a step back. She felt sorry for the dead woman, but she didn’t have time to waste chitchatting. In less than a quarter of an hour her staff would be returning along with the afternoon rush and her brief time alone with Kir would be over. She didn’t know why the thought bothered her, but it did.
“It’s sad,” she assured Parker. “But I’m not sure why you’re here.”
Parker glanced around the empty office, as if making sure they were alone. “My source says that when they searched the back office at the trailer park, they found a silver dart that looks like it came from a tranq gun.” He deliberately paused. “The sort used by vets on large animals.”
She studied him in confusion. “Why would there be a dart there?”
“The sheriff assumes she was knocked out so she could be taken without a struggle and killed somewhere more private.”
Lynne stiffened. Was Parker sniffing around her clinic because he thought she was somehow involved in the murder? “What does that have to do with me?” she asked point-blank. She wasn’t a subtle sort of woman.
“I need an expert on how a person could go about getting their hands on the drugs you use and how they would affect a person who was injected with them.”
She was only partially mollified by the smooth explanation. “No.”
“It can be off the record,” he wheedled. “Just some background information that would help my audience understand—”
“No.” Her tone was sharper.
Not surprisingly, Parker wasn’t deterred. He was a journalist. They didn’t allow rejection to stop them from getting what they wanted. But even as his lips parted, there was the sound of a male voice speaking from behind Lynne.
“I believe she told you no.”
The newscaster twitched, clearly caught off guard at the realization they weren’t alone. Then, with a practiced ease, he turned to flash his toothy smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Lynne had a patient.” He held out his hand. “Parker Bowen.”
Kir strolled forward, his face oddly pale as he shook the man’s hand. “Kir Jansen.”
“Jansen?” Parker paused, as if testing the name. Then he snapped his fingers. “Any relation to Rudolf Jansen?”
It was Kir’s turn to look surprised. “You knew my father?”
“No, but I did read his obituary in the paper. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Parker tucked his phone back in his pocket, his expression distracted as if he was already thinking of his next task. Perhaps finding another vet who would give him the background information he wanted. Turning, he walked toward the door.
“Call me if you change your mind about helping with the investigation,” he told Lynne. “That dart had to come from somewhere.”
Chapter 3
Kir was shaken.
Bone-deep, to-the-soul shaken.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the door was open, and the voices easily carried as the unknown man had talked about some woman being found dead and posed naked in a field. At first he’d been vaguely horrified. Murder was rare in such a small town. Still, the majority of his attention had been focused on how