their vehicles to drive away. It was as if nothing had happened.
Was it because Rita King had been the town drunk, without money or friends? Or just because there was nothing left to do but plan the funeral?
And why couldn’t he accept that it’d been nothing more than a tragic accident? Did it have something to do with his unresolved grief for his father?
He sighed. So many questions without answers. It made his brain hurt.
“Rita was found behind the dumpster,” he told Lynne. “How did she get there?”
She blinked, puzzled by his refusal to accept the obvious. “The impact of the car . . .” Her words trailed away. “Well, she could have been thrown there.”
“I suppose.”
He was trying to imagine the force it would take to shove a woman behind a dumpster when Lynne reached out to give his arm a gentle squeeze.
“What now?”
He shook away his morbid thoughts, telling himself that it was sheer paranoia to assume this was more than some tragic accident. “I’ll take you back to work, then I’m going to make sure someone contacts Rita’s daughter,” he told Lynne with a shudder. “I don’t want the poor woman left in the morgue.”
She regarded him with concern. “Are you sure you should be driving? You’re pretty shaken up.”
“I’m fine.” He turned to lead Lynne back to the SUV. “You can call me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up.”
They crawled into the vehicle and Kir switched on the engine.
Lynne heaved a small sigh as she watched the last of the gawkers drift away. “I’m sorry, Kir,” she murmured softly. “Rita deserved better.”
Kir gripped the steering wheel, a sick regret in the pit of his stomach. “She did.”
Chapter 22
Lynne finished the last appointment and was waiting for Kir to pick her up by five thirty that evening—nothing less than a miracle. She waited in the lobby until she saw his SUV pull into the parking lot, not about to take any chances. Then, after locking the doors and switching on the alarm, she hurried to join him in the thankfully warm vehicle.
“Did you locate Rita’s daughter?” she asked as she closed the door and buckled her seat belt.
Kir pulled out of the lot, his face lined with weariness. “I didn’t talk to her, but the deputy at the sheriff’s office said they’d contacted her, and she was on her way back to arrange the funeral.” He sent her a quick glance. “The deputy also told me your truck has been released. You can pick it up tonight.”
Lynne swallowed a rude word. “About time.”
“We’ll take my dad’s truck to get it and then run it back to his house. I need to grab some clothes anyway.”
“Okay.”
They drove to her home and after taking King out for a quick walk, they exchanged the SUV for the old pickup and headed to the impound lot behind the sheriff’s office. Twenty minutes later they both pulled to a halt in front of Rudolf’s old house and were entering through the front door.
Lynne arched her brows as she pulled off her boots and slipped out of her heavy coat. The shabby furniture and old carpet were the same, but there was a new layer of white paint on the walls and the yellowed blinds had been replaced with new curtains. It was amazing how the simple touches had refreshed the room.
“It looks good in here,” she told Kir, turning in a slow circle. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
His lips twisted as he took off his coat and tossed it on a chair. “Solve crimes.”
She studied him with a flare of sympathy. He looked .. . subdued. As if the pressure he’d placed on himself to expose the killer was taking a heavy toll. Without considering what she was doing, Lynne walked forward to wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m pretty sure that’s like brain surgery,” she assured him. “A talent that takes both training and experience.” “Unfortunately.”
Lynne rested her head against his chest, feeling the soft brush of his lips over her hair. Instantly the lingering chill was chased away. It wasn’t just the warmth of his body seeping through her sweater. Or the strength of his arms as they wrapped around her. It was the familiar scent of his skin and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
He wasn’t one of those guys she usually dated. He’d put his unpredictable, reckless childhood behind him. Now he was solid and loyal and utterly dependable.
A man who