Kitty tugged on his sleeve, pointing to a spot on the ground.
“The guy dropped his knife in the fight,” she said. “It’s what he used to cut my face.”
Ryan pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and carefully picked up the blade from the leaves. There wouldn’t be any prints, given the gloves the man had worn, and the chances of finding anything that would lead back to the knife’s owner on this commonly sold kitchen knife were slim, but finding any leads in this case would be like finding gold.
“Let’s go,” he said, putting an arm around Kitty.
She held the tissue against her cheek as she walked, occasionally moving it to check if the bleeding had stemmed. The wound wasn’t large or deep enough to require stitches, but it might still leave a faint scar once healed. At the moment he guessed that a skin blemish was the least of her worries.
“You shouldn’t have left the town hall without me,” he said. “It was reckless.”
“Yes, it was,” she admitted. “I’m sorry—I just don’t seem to be able to do anything right today.” She sighed. “It’s hard to stay positive when so many people hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” His feelings were complicated, far too muddled to explain. “I really don’t.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” she said. “Sometimes I think you don’t like me very much at all.” She lowered her head. “And I’m not sure I like you much, either.”
His heart sank.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I’m really grateful for everything you’re doing to help me, but your hostility toward my father constantly hangs over us.” Her eyes welled up. “I trust my father with all my heart and even though you’ve never met him, you write him off like he’s devious and wicked.”
Ryan fixed his line of sight on the parking lot ahead, lit up brightly in the darkness. How could he tell Kitty that her father most likely was devious and wicked? How could he lead her to the horrible truth that child killers were, by their very nature, devoid of morals? He could say none of this. It wouldn’t help matters at all.
“Listen to me,” he said. “You’ve got me all wrong. I like you very much, and I hope you can learn to like me. We could even be friends. But I have to remind you that you’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger by fighting to free your father. You saw how angry some of the people were tonight. Not just your attacker—the people in the meeting, too. They want you to stop. I want you to stop.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “I don’t care what you want. I’ll do this with or without you, and no amount of town meetings or petitions or even violent attacks will stop me.”
Up ahead, the townsfolk had reached the lot and were speaking to Sheriff Wilkins, animatedly recounting the scene they had witnessed in the woods. Ryan heard the sheriff call his name.
“We’re okay, Sheriff,” he yelled back. “I’ll be right there.”
He then lightly gripped Kitty by the shoulders. “Petitions and nasty comments can’t kill you, but knives and guns can. That guy might have been in the town hall tonight, getting all riled up. He might be someone that you know, someone that you’ve passed on the street regularly, just waiting for the right moment to strike. This man is obviously depraved and you’re giving him a reason to target you.”
“So you think I should just stop what I’m doing, huh?” She shrugged her shoulders, dislodging his hands. “You think I should let a killer stay on the loose, free to murder again.”
“I think you should leave the investigation to the professionals,” he said. “We could be dealing with an accomplice here—”
She cut him off by raising a palm. “What did you say? Do you think that my father had an accomplice?”
Ryan groaned inwardly. He should never have said those words out loud. He tried to backtrack. “It’s just a theory at the moment.”
She was simmering with indignation. “Well, it’s the stupidest theory I’ve ever heard.”
He bristled at being called stupid. He was far wiser than she was in this matter.
“I have to consider every plausible explanation for these attacks on you,” he said, raising his voice and letting his irritation show. “And I rely on facts, not fantasy. You need to learn to tell fantasy from reality, because right now you don’t seem to know the difference.”
Kitty raised her voice to match his. “Oh, I know the difference, all right. I know you have a fantasy that we’ll be friends, but reality is proving far different.”
Ryan turned and threw his hands up in the air, with no clue of what else to say.
Just then Sheriff Wilkins approached them through the trees. “I heard a gunshot,” he said. “And I’ve been told there was an incident.”
“Kitty was attacked again,” Ryan said. “The guy escaped, but I’ll be writing a report tomorrow morning and issuing alerts right away to try and apprehend him.”
Sheriff Wilkins eyed the cut on Kitty’s cheek. “I can see you’re bleeding. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“It’s not serious,” she replied. “I can see to it with my first aid kit. I really want to go home now.”
“Of course you do,” the sheriff said. “Only I heard raised voices just now, like you two were having an argument.”
“It’s nothing,” Ryan said.
The sheriff looked between the two of them. “I wondered if Ryan’s decision regarding renting your apartment had caused some friction, Miss Linklater. But you should know it’s for the best.”
Ryan shot the sheriff a warning look. “Kitty’s upset about the attack and she got a little agitated. We’re not fighting. I’ll take her home now, if I may. Could you supervise the lot and ensure everyone leaves safely?”
“I’d be happy to help,” the sheriff replied. “It’s been a traumatizing evening for everyone and we need to keep tensions from flaring.” He tipped his hat to Kitty. “I’ll leave you in Ryan’s capable hands, ma’am, and please rest assured that we’ll thoroughly investigate what happened here.”
When the sheriff was out of earshot, Kitty said, “I’m sorry I raised my voice. You didn’t deserve the things I said, especially after you came to save me.” She held out a hand as a peace offering. “Can we forget it?”
He took her hand. It was cool and stiff. Her touch was oddly formal, standoffish and awkward. Ryan sensed that she wasn’t really calling a truce. She was simply delaying the next disagreement.
“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I forget how hard this is for you.”
“Why did the sheriff mention you renting the apartment?” she asked. “What did he mean when he said it’s for the best?”
“He’s confused,” Ryan replied. “I think he mixed me up with one of his other deputies.”
Kitty didn’t look convinced. “Does he have an issue with you living at my house?”
Now would be the perfect time to tell her that he had been ordered to vacate her apartment. But there was no way he could leave her now, not while she was being hunted. He would have to take the consequences.
“The sheriff’s opinion doesn’t matter to me. It’s my business and nobody else’s.”
As he saw her safely into her car, ready to escort her home, he couldn’t quite believe that he was potentially sacrificing his dream job for the sake of a woman who was loyal to a murderer.
But what choice did he have? She wouldn’t last five minutes without him.
* * *
Kitty handed Ryan a glass of iced tea as he packed away his tools. For the last few hours, he had been installing a panic alarm in her cellar and fitting a new heavy-duty door, delivered that morning from a store in Lawton. Kitty had initially insisted on paying for it, but when she heard the price, the horror she’d felt must have shown on her face. So Ryan had offered to pay for it in lieu of two weeks’ rent and she had accepted the offer, glad she didn’t have to
rely on his charity.
They both stood in the small cellar as Ryan drained his glass. The space was cramped and claustrophobic, but Ryan had pushed her father’s old machinery to the side to make a little more room to move. Now that he had bricked up the small, high window, the cellar felt like a dungeon—dark and gloomy. Kitty kept telling herself that this room was for emergencies only, because even as she stood there, perfectly safe with Ryan, she fought the urge to run up to the kitchen and surround herself with sunshine and fresh air.
“So this is the button you press if you’re in danger,” Ryan said, pointing to a device he had attached to the wall, with wires trailing into the circuit box above. “It links directly to my emergency radio so I’ll hear the alarm wherever I am.”
He pressed the button and within a second or two a high-pitched beep sounded in the radio on his belt. It made her think of a war siren, an alarm that signaled the approach of devastating danger and imminent loss of life, something she’d once seen in a movie. She leaned against the wall, suddenly light-headed, feeling the chill of the brick seep through her sweater.
Ryan looked up the stairs. “That new door is strong enough to hold for a good while, so it should buy you enough time. If the telephone line is cut then the button won’t work, so keep your gun and cell with you at all times as an extra precaution. You can’t afford to take any chances.”
She put a palm on her forehead. The scene he was conjuring up was terrifying. She imagined being alone in this cold, dark space, hearing shots being fired into a door that might or might not hold until Ryan reached her. Could she defend herself with just her handgun? Would she have the confidence and cool head to point her weapon and fire at an intruder?
“Hey,” Ryan said, gazing at her face. “You’ve gone really pale.” He directed her toward the stairs. “Let’s get you out of here.”
She climbed the steps into her welcoming, bright kitchen and sat at the table, gathering her thoughts and placing her head in her hands.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Ryan said, closing the door to the cellar. “But you have to be prepared for the worst.”
“I hate living this way,” she said. “I just wish I knew who was doing this to me.”
He sat opposite her. “We’re working really hard on finding that out. I received an email report this morning on the bullet casings, so we know which gun he used, and I’ve got Shane going house to house with the profile we built of him.” He put his hands in the air, acknowledging her resigned expression. “I know we don’t have much to work with, because he’s taken care to cover himself and wear gloves, but you’ve helped a lot by telling me everything you can remember.”
“I’m sure I wasn’t much help at all,” she conceded. “I could barely recall a thing.”
“That’s normal in victims of assault,” he said, putting his fingers on top of hers. “But I also got five witness reports from those folks who came into the woods yesterday. So far, we know that we’re looking for an average-height man with a slender build who owns a Glock G19 handgun.”
She smiled weakly. “It’s not much to go on, huh?”
“It’s a start.”
“Thank you for everything,” she said. “You’re working hard on keeping me safe and I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
A silence ensued as Kitty gazed out the window, watching a noisy flock of ducks flying toward the lake. When she was a kid, she used to spend her entire summers swimming or boating at Whistling Lake. She’d stay there until dusk, until she heard her mother calling, reminding her that bedtimes were enforced even in the summer months. Back then her dad had been sober, running a thriving gardening business. Kitty’s home had once been a place of joy and love and contentment. Now it had become her prison.
“Is something bothering you, Kitty?” Ryan asked. “I mean something other than the obvious.”
“I miss my mom,” she blurted out. “I wish she was here now, taking charge, telling me it’s all gonna be okay.”
He leaned over the table. “It’s all gonna be okay.”
His attempt to comfort her in her grief fell flat and only compounded her sense of loneliness. Her mother would listen to her, would trust Kitty’s instincts, believe in her. Ryan did none of those things.
“I’m not very good at being a counselor, am I?” he said with a half laugh. “Why don’t you tell me about your mom? I’d like to know more about her.”
Kitty didn’t know where to start. Her mother was a force of nature, wonderful and vibrant, with so many differing sides to her personality.
“When I was a little girl I used to tell my friends that my mom was a beauty queen, because she always wore a pretty dress and styled her hair each morning. Even when the cancer treatment took its toll, she never let herself go. After she lost her hair she bought a beautiful dark wig and still put on makeup every day. She never gave up. Never.” Kitty smiled. “So maybe you can see where I get my determined streak from.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m sure she’d be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I never expected to lose her so young and it was made all the worse when my dad fell apart. When you’re happy you don’t think the good times will end, so you take them for granted.” She gingerly touched the cut on her cheek. “When you’re happy you have no idea that everything can change in an instant.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” Ryan said. “When Gina died, a weight fell across our family. It’s like there’s a before time and an after time, a line drawn right down the middle of our lives, separating the two halves. One half is full of life and the other half is full of...”
He seemed to struggle to find the right word, so she helped him out. “Darkness?”
“Yeah, a lot like darkness, where you don’t know which way to turn or how to find your way back to happiness.”
She stared earnestly at his face. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“The before time ends up feeling a little like a dream,” he continued. “You start forgetting small details, like what a person smelled like or what their laugh sounded like. Grief can catch you off guard when you least expect it, like when you see a kid riding a bicycle with a pink basket.”
She found herself listening to him intently. So she and Ryan did have something in common, after all. He was able to articulate her feelings better than she ever could, clearly able to understand how she felt about losing her mother at much too young an age.
“Do you think it’s possible?” she asked.
“What?”
“To find your way back to happiness. Do you think it’s possible?”
“I do,” he said. “‘And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’”
She took a quick, deep breath, blinking away her emotion. It had been many months since a verse of Scripture had lifted her from the depths of despair. In fact, it had been many months since she’d attended church. Ryan had quoted more than words—he had reminded her that light existed, that she was loved even in her loneliness, especially in her loneliness.
“You will be happy again, Kitty,” he said, taking her hand and twining his fingers through hers. “Our lowest points are always the start of something new and incredible.”
Could she possibly allow herself to believe that? She’d assumed that by the age of twenty-nine she’d be married and settled, perhaps with a family and a busy, wonderfully hectic life. Instead, she’d been at her lowest point for ten years, ever since her mom died and her dad started drinking. How much longer did she have to wait for the start of something better? Kitty often wondered if she had experienced the worst of her anguish or if there was more to come. Surely it couldn’t get worse than this?
“Don’t give up,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “One day you’ll look back on this point of your life as a time of cha
racter building. You’ll be a better person because of all your bad experiences, Kitty. I know it.”
She smiled, enjoying the sensation of his hand in hers, for the first time feeling truly at ease in his presence, valuing his company as if he truly were a friend and she could tell him anything.
“You know something, Ryan?” she said. “What you said earlier was wrong—I think you are a pretty good counselor.”
He laughed. “Well, I’ll sure take that compliment from you, especially as it’s such a rare occurrence.”
“I don’t mean to be so difficult and tetchy all the time,” she said. “It’s just that...” She stopped. “You know why.”
“I know why.”
And then the sensation of calm left her, almost as quickly as it had come, replaced with the knowledge that however much Ryan could empathize with her pain, he would never believe her. He wouldn’t stand with her when it truly mattered, when her father’s reputation was at stake. She would therefore need to be careful to keep him at arm’s length and avoid these kinds of intimate discussions. They were destined to lead nowhere good.
She pulled her hand free and stood up. “Okay, let’s go through the panic room procedure one more time. I want to be totally clear how to protect myself from whatever’s coming my way.”
FIVE
Kitty made breakfast in the morning, listening to Ryan moving around the apartment, his radio occasionally crackling to life. Even though it had been a quiet night, she was comforted by these sounds of normal life.
“Hey,” he said, stepping out into the hall in a crisply ironed uniform. “You’re up early.”
“I didn’t sleep well, so I got up before sunrise. I just made toast and coffee if you want some.”
“Thanks. It’s good to have an uneventful night, huh?” He came into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”
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