Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,84
they said . . .” She was forced to stop and clear her throat. “They said it was the same killer who murdered the others.”
The girl looked pitiful, but Lynne couldn’t manage much sympathy. Did that make her a bad person?
Lynne shrugged. “I doubt anything is official.”
Chelsea stopped her pacing to send Lynne a poisonous glare. “They also said you found the body.”
Lynne swallowed a curse. How had that particular rumor gotten around? The sheriff? “Kir and I were driving by the school and noticed Nash’s truck,” she grudgingly admitted.
“Did you see his body? You’re sure it was him?”
“I’m sure.”
There was a long, painful silence before Chelsea reached up to wipe away her tears with an angry motion. “This is all your fault.”
Lynne widened her eyes at the accusation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t kill Nash.”
“It’s your fault,” the younger woman insisted, a fevered glint in her eyes. “If he hadn’t been obsessed with you—”
“What are you talking about?” Lynne interrupted Chelsea’s whining. “Nash and I ended things weeks ago.”
“You ended things. He never moved on,” she stubbornly insisted.
Lynne snorted. “I would say he moved on before we officially broke up. Or have you forgotten that I know about the two of you in the storage room?”
Chelsea managed to look even more belligerent. “That was your fault too.”
“Mine?” The sheer audacity of her claim stole Lynne’s breath. Chelsea couldn’t be serious?
No one was that self-centered.
“He was trying to hurt you,” the younger woman insisted. “That’s why he had sex with me and stole the drugs.”
Lynne frowned. The babbling made no sense. “If he wanted to hurt me, he would have arranged for me to catch the two of you together. Instead he made sure it stayed a secret.”
Chelsea refused to listen to reason. “There was a part of him that still hoped you would get back together.”
Lynne shook her head in resignation. “Even if that’s true, I don’t see how I’m to blame for his death.”
“If he hadn’t been trying to punish you, he would never have agreed to steal the drugs and sell them.”
Lynne’s mouth parted to argue, only to snap shut as she studied the woman in confusion. “Wait. Do you think that Nash was murdered because the killer knew he was the one who stole the sedatives from the clinic?”
Chelsea hunched her shoulders. “Why else? The other victims were all middle-aged women. Why would a serial killer be interested in Nash unless he was worried he might be exposed?”
Why, indeed. Lynne tried to wrap her mind around the possibility, but it was impossible to concentrate while Chelsea was glaring down at her. She would have to wait until she was alone to reconsider Nash’s murder. “Who knows why a madman kills?” she instead muttered.
Chelsea made a raw sound of fury. “You can try to pretend you’re innocent all you want, Dr. Lynne Gale, but I know you’re guilty.”
Lynne leaned back in her seat, as if she could avoid the toxic hatred that pulsed around the younger woman.
What the hell was going on? She’d always assumed people liked her. Okay, she wasn’t Miss Socialite. She didn’t spend every night at the bar or her weekends at the golf course. But she was a respected vet who cared about her neighbors. It was unnerving to think there were people in town who carried such hatred in their hearts toward her.
Chelsea. The sheriff. Who knew who else . . .
“Why are you so eager to blame me?”
Chelsea’s jaw tightened. “You don’t even know what you have, do you?”
“What I have?”
Chelsea waved a hand toward the framed diploma on the wall. “Your fancy education, and a career handed to you on a silver platter.” The younger woman made a sound of disgust. “It’s no wonder you think you can toss men away like garbage.”
Lynne surged to her feet as anger pounded through her. She’d spent eight years in grueling college classes. She hadn’t partied, hadn’t dated, hadn’t gone on spring breaks. She’d either been studying or returning to Pike to help her father. And the demands on her had only increased when she’d graduated. She’d come home expecting to spend years working with her dad before deciding if she wanted to take over the demands of the clinic. Instead her father had taken a nasty fall and the doctor had warned that he needed to retire and take care of himself if he didn’t want to end up in a wheelchair. Suddenly, Lynne found herself shouldering the burden of the clinic,