"I don't understand," Abby whispered. "Wouldn't you think he'd have shoved me into the back of his patrol car?"
Erin shook her head as she drove down Main. "I don't understand any of this."
Abby fell silent. None of the people here really knew her. Even with an excellent resume and references, who would believe her? And if she was charged and convicted of a crime she hadn't committed...
She folded her arms over her pitching stomach. Was that what Erin was thinking right now? That she'd made a horrible mistake in bringing Abby here?
As they followed Sheriff Johnson into his office, Erin touched her arm. "I just want you to know, Abby, that I've never had any doubts about you and I still don't. Not a single one."
Johnson waved them toward the two heavy oak chairs facing his desk. "Abby says she arrived at a quarter after midnight, but no one saw her. When we searched the hospital on Saturday night we didn't find anything other than the empty cash box."
"So you think I went to my office and hid the money in my desk?" Her voice came out thin, hollow. Clasping her trembling hands, she felt colder than she'd ever been in her life. "W-why would I hide it so poorly? And why wasn't it all there?"
"Tell me again what you did. Step by step. With the exact times, as you remember them."
He was going to compare this version to her first, looking for discrepancies. All she could do was tell him exactly what happened and pray she didn't forget some detail. Abby took a steadying breath and recounted her trip into the hospital.
Johnson took notes, his face devoid of emotion. "You saw no one? You're absolutely sure?"
"Yes. The place was almost eerie, it was so quiet." She flinched, remembering the awful moment she'd been attacked. "I—I had no idea that someone was behind me until it was too late."
"Is it possible someone could have followed you from the pavilion?"
"The people who were there at the very end? I can't imagine any one of them being capable of this.. .or that stupid. The ticket sales money for the dinner dance is already in the bank. Some of the auction payments were in personal checks, which would be impossible to cash. And who could ever spend that big cashier's check for the car, made out to Blackberry Memorial?"
"There's still the matter of the missing currency— nearly five thousand dollars. That's a hefty windfall for just about anyone." He leaned back in his chair, hiked one black leather boot over the opposite thigh and tapped his pen against his mouth. "I've questioned a number of people. Two of them referred to some earlier incidents at the hospital apparently directed against you."
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"Someone altered some of my documentation. Later, I believe someone tampered with an IV I'd started correctly."
"So you think someone might be trying to discredit you?"
She began to breathe a little easier. "I'm an interim director of nursing. Even if someone hated me, they all know I'm just here for the summer. Why bother?"
"Have you had to discipline anyone? Let anyone go?"
"Only the usual supervision, guidance. A verbal warning about absenteeism, but nothing beyond that." She met Erin's eyes and knew they were thinking about the same employee.
He leaned forward to brace his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. "Quite honestly, I initially figured you took the money. You certainly had the means and the opportunity, but I wasn't sure about the motive."
"Wait. I did a background check on you, Abby. You've had long-term employment. A stable address, until coming here. No criminal history. And frankly, two of the staff members I interviewed were outraged when I questioned them about your actions on Saturday night." He cracked a smile. "You might have an enemy here, but you also have some strong allies."
"We've been extremely pleased with her at the hospital," Erin said. "At the last board meeting, we
discussed our disappointment that she won't be here permanently."
He studied Abby thoughtfully. "Why would you take on a demanding job like this one for the summer?"
"I've been teaching for years, and wanted to update my clinical and management experience before starting a new teaching position next fall."
He nodded, as if she'd just confirmed his opinion. "I'll have a fingerprint analysis done on the currency. It's clear you'd hardly have hidden it so poorly, unless you had a burning desire to be caught."
"But if this guy had gloves on..."
"With luck, the perpetrator found it difficult to handle the paper with his gloves and took them off." The sheriff flashed a wicked smile. "People don't realize we can lift exceptionally nice prints from paper."
Erin frowned. "But if he wore gloves..."
"There'd be prints on the inside of them." Johnson's smile disappeared. "My deputy and Joe Barker searched Abby's office while I went through yours. They obviously did a damn poor job of it if they missed that shelf of books, but there were no vinyl gloves found in the wastebaskets of either office."
Abby forced her clenched hands to relax. "So where does that leave me, exactly?"
"I may need to ask you more questions. For now, we're checking criminal histories on a number of people who might have had access to the hospital, including those on duty Saturday night." He quirked a
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brow. "By the way, an anonymous donor has offered a five-hundred-dollar reward for information leading to a conviction."
Erin stiffened. "I don't think you'll find anything on your employee criminal checks. The hospital has done background checks on every new hire for the past fifteen years. The other employees have been around for so long that we'd surely know."
"It's just part of the procedure, ma'am." He turned to Abby. "And in the meantime, you won't be leaving town. Correct?"
"Not until August thirtieth. Er, that was my plan, anyway."
"Call me if you hear or see anything suspicious." He reached inside a drawer and slid two business cards across his desk. "Given the timing of the theft and the lock system at the hospital, this was likely an inside job—someone you know and trust."
"When we left the hospital, you said we should feel free to act upset," Abby murmured.
"If someone wanted to set you up, he might hear that you were taken here for questioning. If he feels safe, he's more likely to make a mistake,"
"You think there'll be more trouble?"
"I hope not. With luck, we'll find a stray fingerprint or some other piece of evidence, and it won't go any further." He stood, in a silent gesture of dismissal. "But be careful, and don't try to play detective on your own. Someone will have a lot to lose over this."
Back at the hospital, Abby felt the stares as she strolled to her office. A nurse's aide peeked around a corner, her eyes round. Down a few rooms, one of the nurses tentatively waved in a weak show of support.
Some of them probably thought she was guilty. All in all the next five weeks were going to be a lesson in patience and humility.
But if Sheriff Johnson decided her fingerprints, means and opportunity were the best evidence he could find, things could prove to be far, far worse.
At the sound of footsteps behind her, she turned to see Gwen with a grandmotherly smile on her face. "I thought I'd try to catch you during my break" she said, puffing from the exertion. "Grace stopped by and said she hoped to see you."
Grace—just the person she wanted to see. If anyone had good advice about this, it would be the woman who'd been the guiding force in the hospital for over thirty-five years.
"When did you see her 0 "
"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago." The affection in Gwen's voice was unmistakable. "My. she looks good. Radiant. Isn't her marriage a dream come true? I suppose she was dreading a lonely retirement. Now she has a new husband and a new home, and time to enjoy both."
"I'm happy for her, too." Abby started edging away, knowing how long Gwen could chitchat. "I'll give her a call if she doesn't stop by. Thanks."
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Gwen's brows knit together. "Are you all right? You seem pale."
"Fine. Absolutely fine." Abby readjusted the shoulder strap of her purse.
"I just.. .well, we all want you to know that we're behind you a hundred percent. I know there's talk and all, but everything will work out."
When the older woman didn't move, Abby realized she'd probably been delegated to conduct this little fishing trip.
"I'm sure it will." Abby glanced at her wristwatch. "If you'll excuse me, I need to make some calls."
"Of course. And I'd better start setting up my med rounds." With a flustered flap of her hand, Gwen hurried down the hall.
Abby sifted through the files on her desk and pulled out a folder. One of the drug companies had promised to send out a sales rep next week to give a presentation on cardiac meds, but the woman hadn't called yet to confirm.
Abby reached for the phone, then let her hand drop. She sat back in her chair to stare at the open planner on her desk. As good a source of gossip as any, Gwen had probably already relayed that Abby appeared pale and frightened, which would feed the rumors that had to be swirling through the community by now.
At shift report, Abby would go talk to them all. And carefully watch the reactions of every person in the room.
That one of them might have set her up for arrest was a chilling thought.
Hi, there!" Grace rapped lightly on the door before walking in.
"You get younger every time I see you," Abby teased, admiring the other woman's navy outfit and hoop earrings. "I hope you'll share your secrets. With the way things are going, I'm going to look ninety by next week."
"We walk forty-five minutes a day, eat a lot less, and I found the best thing on the Internet—a face cream that does wonders." Grace smiled. "But mostly, it's just having more sleep and less stress. Which, I understand, must be a bit of an issue for you right now."
"You heard?"
"Word travels, dear, whether one tries to avoid the gossip or not. And for the record, I stand behind you one hundred percent."
"None of this makes any sense. From the very first, it hasn't. I even went back and looked at who applied for this job, wondering if there could be resentment."
Grace snorted. "If there was, I'd think they'd be directed at the woman we hired to start in September, not you. Five of our ten applicants were from this area. Once the job was filled and the new person couldn't come until fall, no one wanted to take over for the summer."
"I noticed two applicants were on staff, but aren't working here any longer."
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"The Board wanted an R.N. with a bachelor's, preferably with business management course work, and none of our nurses had that. One decided to go back to college, so she'd have a better shot the next time she applied for a director of nursing position. One got miffed and quit. She moved to the Twin Cities, and I hear she was hired as a DON for a small long-term-care facility."
"Not exactly strong leads, then."
"Not really. Gwen, Carl and Marcia applied, but they just joked about it afterward. They said it would've been tough supervising people they'd worked with as peers."
"Even Carl?"
"Ah, Carl." Grace smiled affectionately. 'That boy has faced plenty of troubles in his life. He's always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, but he's a good man."
"Financial troubles?"
"Family. He cared for his elderly parents for years before they died. Even if he'd won the job, I don't think he would've taken it. I think he's saving his money so he can go back to school in Madison or Milwaukee."
"And the other two?"
"Gwen's too rigid about 'how things have always been.' She can also be too emotional and tends to get flustered, but she's such a softy. She dotes on her dogs and cats. Marcia's a clock-watcher and can't wait to leave every day, but that's because she's so involved with her nieces' and nephews' sports. She also helps her elderly parents a great deal.
"Neither one would've enjoyed the long hours. In fact, they both seemed relieved."
Abby nodded as Grace started talking about an upcoming trip, but her words barely registered.
Grace clearly still felt loyal to her former employees. She didn't believe any one of them capable of wrong-doing.
But someone was. And right now, Abby's nursing license could be at stake.
Ethan forced his attention back to the tackle box he'd opened on the tailgate of his truck.
Next time Max called for a reservation, the cabins were going to be full. Probably well into the next century. What kind of middle-aged guy would make a play for a much younger woman anyway? A self-absorbed, cocky, shallow—
Sharp pain lanced through Ethan's hand, jerking his attention back to the tackle box and a fishhook neatly jammed into his thumb.
A large hook, luckily.. .and the barb hadn't buried deep enough to catch. Serves you right. She's not your business.
There hadn't been a day this week when he hadn't thought about the night they'd spent together. Warm, willing and sweet was what he'd expected from that first kiss, but that didn't come close to describing the incredible experience that followed.
Since then it had been hard to remember exactly why the risk seemed so great...at least, until he looked at Keifer and remembered the pain of divorce. The loss. And the way the poor kid was shuffled between parents like a piece of baggage.
He pulled out the hook and pressed his throbbing thumb against the side of his forefinger to stop the bleeding, and searched one-handed through the tackle box for a Band-Aid.
"Are you okay?" Abby called. She handed the squirming pup to Max and leaned over the fence next to him.
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The man looked as if he'd like to have her for his next meal.
"I'm/me," Ethan muttered.
A worry line formed between her arched brows. "But you're bleeding!" She came through the gate, gently nudging the contingent of puppies away with her foot, and examined the wound. "We should wash this, then use some antibiotic salve. Heaven knows where that hook was last."
"Probably in the mouth of a twenty-pound walleye."
"That's awful!"
"Why? I catch and release."
"That's nice for the fish, but I really think we need to take care of you. When did you last have a tetanus shot?"
"Five years or so, plus a booster in June at the hospital."
Her hair smelled like wildflowers. After weeks of being outside during the late afternoons after work, her skin had tanned to bronze with a trail of freckles across her nose he hadn't noticed before. His first inclination would have been to brush off her advice, but then he caught Max's expression darkening as he looked between them.
"I thought we were going fishing. Aren't you about ready yet?"
"He'll be out in a second, Max." Abby led the way into the house and retrieved the box of first-aid supplies from a cabinet as he washed and dried his hands.
"Good boy," she teased as she applied antibiotic
cream and a Band-Aid. "I wish I had some cute stickers for you to choose from."
His resolutions about keeping careful distance faded when she tipped her chin up to look at him and he saw that behind her casual humor there was also a hint of regret.
'Thanks," he said quietly. "You've been a good sport, putting up with Keifer and me."
"A good sport?'' Her dimples deepened. TD take that, I guess. I know we've been avoiding each other and that it's been...awkward since last weekend."
The turn of the conversation made the back of his neck prickle. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his truck keys and edged toward the door. "Uh..."
"No, wait," she said earnestly. "You don't have to avoid me, really. We're just friends who briefly explored something a little deeper. Don't worry, because I'm not looking for anything more. I'm okay with just forgetting what happened."
Maybe she was okay with it. but he wasn't.
This past week, the predatory interest of his renters toward her had rankled. And now, through the kitchen window, Ethan could see Max checking his reflection in one of the side mirrors of his pickup.
Even from here it was obvious the guy still had that avaricious gleam in his eye. "I think you should watch out for Max."
She tightened the cap on the tube of antibiotic cream and tossed it back into the first-aid box. "Why?"
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"He looks like the kind of guy who takes whatever he can get."
"Really." She raised a brow. "So that's new?"
Ethan curbed his rising impatience. "He's only here for another few days, and then he'll be gone. Maybe he's got a lot of money and sophistication, but he's the kind of guy..." He swore under his breath. "Forget it. You're a big girl, right?"
"Right. One easily lured by the bank account of an aging hustler who thinks doctor in front of his name equals a free ticket to play." She gave Ethan a look of disdain. "Go. Take the man fishing. I never make the same mistake twice."
After taking Abby the long way home during then-walk last Sunday afternoon, Ethan had gone back to search for the person who'd fired a rifle.
The guy had disappeared without a trace.
And though Ethan had reported the gunfire to the sheriff and continued to be vigilant, he hadn't caught sight of anyone in the Lake Lunara wolf pack's territory.
He'd heard another distant rifle shot, though. And on Wednesday, he'd seen a wolf through his binoculars, one with a dark stain on its side that looked suspiciously like a trail of blood from a gunshot wound. By the time he'd hiked to the location, the wolf had disappeared, its paw prints lost in a forest floor of heavy pine needles and brush.
But now, thanks to Peter Barton's habit of keeping
a pot of coffee on the stove at his feed store, Ethan knew conversations had been heating up all week over the wolves—especially after the loss of Harlan Buford's coonhound. And that sounded like something worth checking.
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