To clear her father’s name...

she’ll risk her life

Nothing can stop journalist Kitty Linklater from proving her father was wrongfully convicted of murder—especially not a killer who wants to silence her. With the town turned against Kitty, Chief Deputy Ryan Lawrence isn’t convinced of her father’s innocence, but he’s sure she’s in danger. And he’ll put his heart and job on the line to save her life...even if it costs his own.

ELISABETH REES was raised in the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye, where her father was the parish vicar. She attended Cardiff University and gained a degree in politics. After meeting her husband, they moved to the wild rolling hills of Carmarthenshire, and Elisabeth took up writing. She is now a full-time wife, mother and author. Find out more about Elisabeth at elisabethrees.com.

Also by Elisabeth Rees

Navy SEAL Defenders

Lethal Exposure

Foul Play

Covert Cargo

Unraveling the Past

The SEAL’s Secret Child

Innocent Target

Caught in the Crosshairs

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Innocent Target

Elisabeth Rees

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09497-9

INNOCENT TARGET

© 2019 Elisabeth Rees

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited for something to happen.

The first gunshot caused her to jump. As the shots intensified, she heard shouting. She recognized Ryan’s rich, deep voice ordering someone to lay down a weapon.

Kitty moved toward the broken window and peered out. The bullet that flew past her head came so close that it created a breeze and she screamed, dropping to the floor again. The bullets wouldn’t stop coming.

She stood and ran into the hallway, intending to gain a better vantage point upstairs, but pain sliced into her leg like a bee sting, and she fell to the floor. The gunshots gradually ceased.

“Kitty,” Ryan yelled into the house. “Where are you?”

“I’m here.”

He appeared at her side.

“My leg,” she said. “Something hit my leg.”

He inspected her right thigh, where blood was trickling. “A bullet grazed you,” he said. “It’s not serious.”

“When will it be over?” she cried.

“Soon. We’ll get through this, Kitty,” he said soothingly. “I promise.”

As much as she wanted to believe his promises, she wasn’t sure she could.

Only time would tell.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing to read Innocent Target. I hope you enjoyed the story.

Kitty is a heroine whom I admire greatly. She stands alone, defying her critics and remaining strong in the face of adversity. We could all take a lesson from Kitty and fight for those who are oppressed, imprisoned or written off as unworthy. God has given us a voice. We should use it to defend the weak, even if others do not always agree with our stance.

Initially, Kitty and Ryan had a conflict that could not be overcome. But as soon as Ryan softened his heart and let go of his preconceptions, he was able to see Kitty’s father as a man rather than a monster. It was satisfying to see him grow in faith and compassion through the story.

I look forward to welcoming you as a reader again.

Blessings,

Elisabeth Rees

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

—John 1:5

For Shana and Jack Asaro and baby Natalie, with a wish that many blessings are bestowed upon their newly grown family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

The air inside the house was heavy and moist, the result of an unseasonably warm day in an Oklahoma winter that was likely to result in a thunderstorm. In the living room of her home, Kitty Linklater wiped her brow with a cool cloth, holding it to her temple and sighing. She’d worked up a sweat after sitting at her computer for almost five hours, writing her latest article for the county newspaper, the Comanche Times. She read the headline aloud: “‘Bethesda Man Challenges His Murder Conviction.’” Hovering her finger over the send button, she hesitated, knowing that the article was controversial, likely to enrage the townsfolk and increase her unpopularity.

But Kitty was no stranger to controversy or unpopularity. For twelve months, she had been investigating the murder of a local teenage girl, found at the side of the road two years previously, her body callously burned to destroy evidence. The small town of Bethesda had reeled from the brutality of it and the residents breathed a collective sigh of relief when a man was arrested, tried and convicted of the crime. Kitty was the only person to feel devastated, because that convicted man was her beloved father, Harry, and she was now utilizing her skills as a freelance investigative journalist to try to prove his innocence. She had initially placed her faith in the justice system, hoping that the truth would win the day, but after the verdict was announced, she knew she had to begin her own investigation.

Her cell phone rang in her pocket, shrill and sharp, causing her black cat, Shadow, to jump from her lap. He ran from the room indignantly, swishing his tail.

She pulled the cell from her jeans. “Hello.”

“Hey, Kitty.” The voice belonged to Sarah Willis, editor of the Comanche Times. “You’re late on your deadline.”

Kitty was given a weekly slot in the paper, trusted by Sarah to fill it with a mix of investigative coverings and opinion pieces on the most interesting and significant stories in the county.

“It’s done,” she said. “I’m about to send it to you now.”

“What is it? Please tell me you’ve moved on from the Bethesda murder.”

“I wrote another piece about my father being wrongfully accused.” She ignored the groan on the other end of the line. “It’s an important story. I have to cover it.”

“No, you don’t, Kitty,” Sarah said strongly. “This is the third time you’ve subbed a piece about your father. It’s not right. You can’t continue to use the paper to push your own agenda.”

“I know it looks bad, but this could be a huge story. I uncovered some new evidence that supports my dad’s claim of innocence.”

“You did?”

“I managed to track down a guy who was in the Starlight Bar on the night of the murder. You remember that’s where my father spent the entire evening when the girl was murdered?”

“And he spent the entire evening there because he’s an alcoholic, right?”

“That’s not relevant,” she retorted. She was sick of people judging her father because of his addiction. “The guy from the bar says he definitely saw my dad there and he’s willing to go on record as a witness.”

“Is this guy also an alcoholic?”

Kitty recalled the man’s ruddy complexion, his shaking hands and his rotting teeth. “Probably, but that doesn’t make him a liar.”

“No, but it makes him an unreliable witness. There were four men besides your dad in the Starlight Bar on that night and none of them could validate his alibi in court, right?”

Kitty had been over this a million times before: aside from her father, there had been three drinkers in the bar, plus the owner and bartender, Harvey Flynn. Of the three drinkers, one had died of liver disease, one—the man she’d found—was an out-of-towner the police couldn’t find, and the third had no memory of the evening due to excess alcohol consumption. Only Harvey Flynn was ruled to be a credible, available witness and he claimed not to have seen Kitty’s father all evening.

“I know what you’re going to say, Sarah,” Kitty said. “A jury convicted my father on the evidence, but this new witness just might be enough to throw the conviction into doubt.”

“Listen to me.” Sarah’s voice was sympathetic, but Kitty knew her boss was exasperated. “After your last piece about your father went out, I received a ton of complaints from people in Bethesda. They don’t want you reminding them of what happened to that poor girl. This is the last time I’ll allow you to submit an article about the murder.”

Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose. Since her father’s incarceration, she’d been spending a huge amount of time investigating the gruesome crime, neglecting her paid journalistic work. The Comanche Times was one of very few steady sources of income and she couldn’t afford to lose it. Until recently she’d housed a tenant in the self-contained apartment attached to the house, but he’d moved out two weeks ago, and money was tight.

“Okay, I understand,” she said finally.

“Great. Give me your latest piece and I’ll get it in tomorrow’s edition.”

Kitty clicked off the phone, walked to the open window and gazed at the beautiful Chinese pistache tree in the yard. Her father had planted the tree ten years ago as a memorial to Kitty’s mother, after cancer had stolen her from them. Her death had been the catalyst for Harry’s drinking, the coping mechanism he had so recklessly chosen in his grief.

A floorboard creaked above and Kitty called out to her little black cat. He would no doubt be hungry, having waited patiently for his dinner while his mistress furiously tapped on a keyboard.

“Shadow,” she called. “I have some nice fish for you.”

She went into the kitchen, retrieving a plastic tub of cod fillets from the fridge and turning on the radio for company. She was beginning to feel terribly lonely in her lakeside house, set in beautiful woodland but secluded and isolated.

There was another floorboard creak overhead. “Come on, Shadow. Where are you?”

A meow sounded at her feet and her cat wound himself through her legs. She froze for a second, a lump building in her throat. If Shadow was here, then who or what was upstairs?

She swallowed hard, telling herself not to panic. She put down the tub of fish and walked into the hallway, peering up the staircase.

“Hello?” she said tentatively. “Is somebody here?”

As a precaution, she took her cell from her pocket and punched in 9-1-1. She didn’t intend to actually place the call, but it didn’t hurt to be ready, just in case.

Ascending the stairs, Kitty kept her ears attuned to any sounds. A sudden noise made her jump. Flattening her back against the wall in the upstairs hallway, she placed a hand over her heart to try and steady it, telling herself that there must be a rational explanation for the sound, like an object falling to the floor.

“There’s no one here, there’s no one here,” she chanted, as if repeating these words would calm her nerves.

She then thought of the small figurine that she kept on her dresser by the window in her bedroom, a gift from her parents for her eighth birthday. Maybe the new drapes had gotten caught in the wind and knocked it onto the rug.

Pushing open her bedroom door, she went into the neat and orderly room. There on the floor was her little figurine, lying on its side beneath the open window, exactly as she had suspected. She stooped to retrieve it just as the door slammed shut behind her with an almighty bang. She sprang up and swiveled around. There was a man standing just a few feet away, a ski mask covering his face, a long-bladed knife in his hand. She screamed, but he remained as still as a statue, his chest rising and falling with heavy breathing.

“Wh-what do you want?” she managed to stutter.

His chilling reply let her know that this wasn’t a burglar.

“I want to kill you.”

She replied with the only thing that came to her terrified mind. “Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t leave well enough alone,” he said, advancing toward her.

She began to back away. “What do you mean?”

“You should’ve accepted that your father killed Molly.”

“But I know he didn’t.”

“You know too much,” the man said. “And that’s why you must die.”

He lunged with his knife. She had no time to think. There was a gun in her dresser, but she had no opportunity to retrieve it. She grabbed the nearest thing to hand, a vase of flowers, and hurled it at the man’s head. The heavy glass bounced off his shoulder and he yelled a curse word, dropping his knife. Kitty tried to snatch the handle but he was too quick for her. Within seconds, the weapon was back in his grasp and she was again at his mercy.

Then she remembered the cell in her hand and hit the call button with her thumb, backing away to the open window. Not daring to bring the cell to her ear, she heard the emergency operator’s faint voice, asking which service was required.

“Police,” she yelled. “62 Lakeside Drive, Bethesda. There’s an intruder.”

Her rear end was now against the windowsill. There was nowhere to go except through the opening. She turned and leaped from the room, out into the clear air, landing in a jumble of limbs and leaves of the old oak tree. She tumbled down, hitting branches as she went, which knocked the breath from her lungs. Her cell flew from her hand and she came to rest on the grass with a thump. She was sore and scratched, but not seriously injured.

She looked up and saw the man leaning through the window, watching her haul herself to her knees. For a brief moment he appeared to be considering descending the same way as she had, but then changed his mind and disappeared from view. That meant he intended to reach her via the stairs, which would take only a matter of seconds. She picked herself up and ran toward the main road, not daring to look back or imagine what would happen if she failed to outrun this wild attacker.

“Help!” she screamed into the empty woods. “Please somebody help me.”

* * *

Chief Deputy Ryan Lawrence surveyed the quiet street outside the station. When he’d taken the job as the chief deputy at the Bethesda station one week ago, nobody had warned him it would be so quiet. His hometown of Lawton, with its almost one hundred thousand residents, was huge in comparison to this little town of barely three thousand. He’d agreed to transfer to the small satellite office in order to take a promotion that would put him in line for the sheriff’s election in a few months’ time. He just hoped that landing his dream job as county sheriff was worth the endless monotony of this sleepy town.

The radio clipped to his belt crackled to life: “We’ve got a report from Kitty Linklater of an intruder at 62 Lakeside Drive. Immediate assistance required.”

He grabbed the radio and spoke into it as he retrieved the truck keys from the hook. “I’m on it.”

Ryan raced along the road that led to the Linklater home—the former residence of the murderer Harry Linklater. It was the place where Harry’s daughter had dreamed up ridiculous notions of proving her father’s innocence and freeing him from prison. Ryan had hoped he’d be able to steer clear of this misguided woman, but she apparently needed his help, so his personal feelings would have to be put to one side.

He knew that Kitty was deeply unpopular in these parts, reviled for her unwavering support of her father and regarded as sullying the memory of the murdered girl through her newspaper articles questioning the jury’s verdict. Molly Thomas had been a gifted musician and a straight A student, a girl whose only mistake had been to accept a lift from Harry Linklater when hitchhiking to a party. Molly’s last known words were a text to a friend: Catching a ride with Mr. Linklater, see you in ten minutes. But she never made it to the party and was found dead a few hours later. Molly’s untimely death had shattered the whole county, and now perhaps someone wanted vengeance.

He turned onto the lane that led to the lake, instantly seeing a woman who he assumed was Kitty sprinting in his direction, covered in leaves and twigs, blood trickling down her face. And behind her was a man dressed in jeans and a hoodie, a ski mask covering his face. Ryan slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting Kitty, jumped from the truck and raised his gun at the suspect.

“Stop right there,” he commanded, pointing his weapon. “You’re under arrest.”

Kitty stood in the lane, her eyes wide with fear, her hands trembling at her sides. The masked man stopped dead, looking between Ryan and the lake, as if assessing his escape routes. Then he turned and ran toward the water, a blade glinting in his hand.

Ryan gave immediate chase.

He was gaining ground on the suspect, but not enough to buy him the time he needed. When the man reached the jetty, he jumped into a small wooden boat and used the blade in his hand to quickly cut the mooring rope. He then activated the motor and pushed it to maximum throttle, sending a wash of water cascading onto the pebbles along the shoreline. Ryan came to a halt and could do nothing but watch as the intruder made his escape over the glittering lake.

Ryan holstered his weapon and walked back to Kitty, finding her sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, staring straight ahead, shock written across her face. He slid into the driver’s seat.

“I’m Chief Deputy Ryan Lawrence from the sheriff’s office in Bethesda,” he said. “Are you Kitty Linklater?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry to say that your intruder escaped across the lake,” he continued. “Can you tell me exactly what happened here?”

Her voice shook with emotion. “Somebody is trying to kill me.”

“Did he hurt you? Do you need medical attention?”

“I’m not hurt,” Kitty replied. “At least not physically, anyway.”

He studied her face. Her eyes were the darkest brown, a perfect match for her hair, and set in an exotic and striking face. It was a cliché, but she had movie-star looks, reminding him of a young Sophia Loren. Yet her clothes were anything but glamorous. She wore threadbare old jeans and an oversize shirt, both of which appeared to be torn from a scuffle or a fall.

“Why do think that this man is trying to kill you?” he asked, flipping open his notepad. “Try to stay calm and tell me all the relevant details.”

“I’ve been investigating the murder of Molly Thomas in an effort to prove that my father couldn’t possibly have done it,” she said. “And now that I’m getting closer to the truth, the real killer wants me dead.”

He nodded silently, pushing down a sudden rush of anger. Murderers like Harry Linklater always denied their crimes. Ryan had seen it all before. The monster who’d killed his sister, Gina, when she was only nine years of age had protested his innocence for almost twenty years. Despite overwhelming forensic evidence against him, Cody Jones had repeatedly tried to appeal his conviction, with no success. It was only twelve months ago that Jones had finally admitted his guilt in the hope of securing a successful parole hearing. Men like this were liars, manipulators and tricksters. And Harry Linklater was no different.

Ryan’s distaste must have shown on his face, giving his feelings away.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “You think my father’s guilty, just like the rest of this town does.”

Ryan recalled being drafted from Lawton two years earlier to assist with the forensic sweep of the area where Molly had been found dead. He had arrived before the body was moved and it was a sight that would haunt him forever. Harry had attempted to burn Molly’s remains to destroy the evidence, but it wasn’t quite enough to cover his tracks.

“It doesn’t much matter what I think,” he replied, reaching for a first aid box in the glove compartment. “Because a jury found your father guilty and he’s now serving his time. I’m not interested in protecting your father, Miss. Linklater. I’m interested in protecting you. So let’s stick to the facts of the matter, okay?”

He took a wad of tissue from the first aid box and held it to her forehead, where a small cut was bleeding.

“The fact of the matter is that this man wants me dead,” she said, taking the tissue from his hand and applying her own pressure instead. “Because he wants to hide the truth about Molly’s death. It’s proof that my dad is innocent.”

Ryan didn’t buy this one bit. Proof involved actual evidence—evidence like traces of Molly’s blood on the seats of Harry’s car and his total lack of verifiable alibi. Harry was guilty. Everyone but Kitty knew it.

She stared him down. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I know I’m onto something, and when I finally prove that my father was wrongfully imprisoned, I’ll happily accept an apology from you, Chief Deputy Lawrence.”

With the blood drying on her face and her eyes blazing, she had the appearance of a soldier straight from the battlefield. And he was quietly impressed by her resolve. But he had no desire to indulge her fantasies of her father’s victimhood. There was only one victim in this scenario and she was buried in Bethesda town cemetery.

“I can promise you that I’ll thoroughly investigate this attack and do all I can to bring the perpetrator to justice,” he said, starting up the truck. “So why don’t we drive on down to your house, where I can take a full statement from you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please call me Ryan. May I call you Kitty?”

She shrugged, which he took to be an affirmative answer. Dark clouds had been gathering in the sky for hours and he heard the first distant rumble of thunder. There seemed to be electricity in the air, sparking an atmosphere inside the truck, building to an inevitable storm.

* * *

Kitty sat in the kitchen, checking her statement, while the new deputy thoroughly scanned the house and yard for any clues regarding the intruder’s identity. He walked into the kitchen with a solemn expression. The peals of thunder had intensified and a quick, sharp flash occasionally lit up the room.

“Well, at least this storm should clear the air,” he said, sitting down at the table. “Are you happy with the statement?”

She nodded while sliding it over to him.

“Do you live alone?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I noticed that you have a separate apartment here. I thought you might have a tenant, perhaps.”

“I did,” she said. “But he decided to leave after some of the townsfolk told him he shouldn’t be associating with me.” She picked at a worn spot on the table with her fingernail. “I’m a social outcast, you see. Frank Price at the hardware store even started a petition to have me banned from Main Street.”

“While I don’t approve of that kind of petition, the town has every right to object to your antics.”

“My antics?” she questioned, folding her arms. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

His green eyes rested on her face for a long time, impossible to read. His red hair and freckled skin gave him a boyish appearance, but those eyes were definitely grown-up and sensible.

“Nobody wants to believe there could be a murderer in their family,” he said. “And I understand what you must be going through—”

She put up her hand to cut him off. “Hold on a minute. How could you possibly understand what I’m going through?”

“My sister was murdered by a stranger when she was only nine years old,” he said, his eye contact unwavering. “Being that close to such a brutal crime is tough. It never leaves you.”

She bowed her head, a sour taste spreading in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

“The man who killed my sister is in prison serving a life sentence, so at least we got to see justice done.”

Despite his efforts to sound fair and avoid condemning her, Kitty knew that, just like the rest of the townsfolk, he probably viewed her actions as pointless and misguided, the antics of a loyal daughter, brainwashed to trust her father wholeheartedly.

“It’s good that you got to see justice done,” she said, deciding to be bold. “But justice hasn’t been served for Molly. Her killer is still out there.”

She noticed the flare of his nostrils, the clench of his jaw, and she knew that she had correctly identified him as a disapprover. Ryan moistened his lips as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky behind him, followed by the low rumble a few seconds later.

He leaned over the table on his forearms, fingers intertwined. “Your continued investigation into a crime that’s already been solved is rubbing people the wrong way. Someone might have gotten so riled up that he’s looking to punish you for it.”

She was incredulous. “Are you saying it’s my fault someone tried to kill me?”

“Absolutely not. You have the right to ask questions and print newspaper articles and challenge the jury’s decision to convict. You have the right to do all of those things without fear of repercussions, but I’m just asking you to consider whether it’s in your interest to continue pushing your opinion on people.” He pulled a small twig from her hair. “I really don’t want to see you get seriously hurt.”

She picked up her empty coffee mug and walked to the sink to rinse it out.

“I have to take that risk,” she said, her back to him. “I don’t expect you to understand and I don’t even expect you to care, but I know that my father didn’t kill Molly. He gave her a ride to a party at the Suttons’ farm after she’d fallen at the side of the road and cut her knees. That was why her blood was in his car. He left her alive and well at the bottom of the lane that leads to the farmhouse.”

She watched Ryan’s reflection in the kitchen window, rubbing his neck and giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“I guess it sounds crazy to you,” she continued. “You see my dad as just another ex-con who’ll say anything to pass the blame on to someone else. Plus, I’m guessing you know that he served time in prison for armed robbery when he was eighteen.”

Ryan nodded.

“He changed his ways a long time ago. He’s not a bad person.”

“From what I understand, he tied up two people at a post office and threatened them with a shotgun before robbing the place. Is that correct?”

Kitty ran a hand through her hair, gathering the strands in her fist and gripping them tight in frustration. “That was thirty-five years ago. Don’t you think people can change?”

Ryan scraped his chair on the linoleum as he stood. “Like I already said, I’m more concerned about you than your father. I don’t like the thought of you being here all alone.” He shifted on his feet, fingering the edges of his hat. “So I might have a potential solution.”

She turned around and leaned against the sink. “You do?”

“I’ve been commuting eighty miles from Lawton and it’s pretty tiring, so I’d rather live closer to the station. I’ve been looking for a room to rent.”

She smiled wryly as she realized what he was getting at. “You want to rent the apartment?”

“It would mean I’m only ten minutes from work, and I can be here on hand in case your attacker comes back.”

She said nothing for a while, listening to the clatter of raindrops on the deck outside. This man had admitted that he thought her father guilty. Could she stand to share living space with someone who so openly doubted her father’s innocence? All she wanted was for one person to believe her, just one single individual to support her investigation. When Ryan had rushed to her aid, she had briefly hoped he might be that person, but now those hopes were dashed.

“You should know that I use this house to coordinate the campaign to free my father,” she said. “So if you’re likely to be offended by that, you should look for another place.”

“I don’t share your opinion,” he said calmly. “But I’m not offended by it.”

She wanted to shout and scream, to tell him that her opinion was correct. But doing so would be a pointless waste of energy.

“Some of the townsfolk might turn on you,” she added. “Lodging here could seriously damage your reputation.”

“My reputation can take the hit,” he said. “Please don’t worry about me, Kitty. You’re the main concern here.”

She had to make a decision either way. She would feel safer with someone else here. And the electricity bill was overdue. “When would you like to move in?”

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

She swallowed her doubts and took the plunge. “Okay. I’ll get the place ready for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Following him to the front door, she said, “The only thing missing from the apartment is a kitchen, so you’ll have to share mine. Maybe we could decide on a roster so we won’t get in each other’s way.”

“I won’t get in your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Somehow, she doubted that very much.

“Lock all the windows and doors when I’m gone,” he said. “And if the intruder returns, call me immediately.” He handed her a card containing his contact details. “Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

She took the card, rubbing her finger over the embossed lettering of Chief Deputy Ryan Lawrence, and watched him sprint through the rain to his truck. The air temperature had plummeted with the storm and she shivered, feeling the sinister presence of her masked attacker all around her.

The intruder would return. Of that she was sure. The only question was when.

TWO

“You’re doing what?” Deputy Shane Harmon slapped his thigh while doubling over with laughter. “You’re renting an apartment at the Linklater house? You sure must be a glutton for punishment. Some people say that she’s bad news.”

Ryan bristled at the criticism of Kitty. She might be mistakenly loyal to her father, but she was a good and decent person underneath it all. After a lot of reflection, he’d concluded that her heart was in the right place. He only wished that her head would overrule her strong emotions.

“Come on now, Shane, she’s not that bad,” Ryan said. “She’s had a rough couple of years, what with all the publicity about her father’s crime, and now she’s convinced that somebody is trying to kill her.”

“Kill her?” Shane questioned with a dubious frown. “She’s not exactly Bethesda’s favorite person, but I don’t think anybody would want her dead.”

“Well, someone certainly tried to hurt her yesterday. I chased him to a boat on the lake, which I’d like you to try to trace.”

“There are a lot of boats that use the lake, so it’ll be tough to locate the owner,” Shane said. “Does Kitty have any idea who it might be?”

“No, but she reckons the attack is linked to her investigation into the Molly Thomas murder.”

Shane pinched his lips together in disgust. “The Molly Thomas murder is solved. Can’t we just let that little girl rest in peace, so her family can try to move on?”

“You won’t hear any argument from me on that,” Ryan said, instantly conjuring up an image of his parents, and how hard the loss of Gina had been on them. If anyone had been around, constantly talking about the trial, trying to cast doubt on the conviction, it would have destroyed their tattered peace of mind. “But Kitty’s got it in her head that the real killer is trying to stop her from getting to the truth.”

“The only truth is that Kitty’s made enemies around here, asking all her intrusive questions and publishing newspaper articles criticizing our police work. If somebody is targeting her, she’s only got herself to blame. She needs to stop what she’s doing or else she might come to real harm.”

“That’s not fair,” Ryan stated. “She’s not doing anything illegal and she has the right to live in peace, just like everyone else. We don’t have to agree with her, but it’s our sworn duty to protect her.”

“Yes, sir.” Shane appeared contrite. “I guess I went too far there. It’s a touchy subject, but you’re right that she shouldn’t be afraid to speak her mind. But she’s not the only outspoken one in this town. I just hope you know what you’re doing by renting her apartment.” He nodded to the street, where some residents were making their way to the station, faces fixed with angry expressions. “Because when these folk hear that you’re rooming with Kitty, they won’t be happy.”

Before he could reply, the door opened and Frank Price walked in with his grandson, Buzz.

Frank was the owner of the hardware store and Buzz was just eighteen, recently graduated from high school and now working for his granddad. Close behind the two men were Carla Torlioni and her husband, Joe, from the café. And all were carrying copies of the Comanche Times.

Frank slapped the newspaper on the counter. “We need you to put a stop to Kitty Linklater.”

Ryan read the headline at the top of the page the paper was opened to: “Bethesda Man Challenges His Murder Conviction.” He scanned the story below, learning that Kitty had tracked down a man who could corroborate her father’s alibi on the night in question. Apparently, Molly’s time of death had been approximately 11:00 p.m., whereas a new witness placed Harry in the Starlight Bar from 8:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m. From the looks of the man’s photo, visible in the corner of the article, he was a heavy drinker and possibly a transient, not exactly a model witness.

“That poor Thomas family has been through quite enough,” Carla said. “It’s not right.”

There were murmurs of agreement from all present in the station, even from Shane. Ryan could understand why. If somebody had been fighting to undermine the conviction of Cody Jones, he would’ve fought against it with the same level of resentment. What Kitty was doing was perhaps morally wrong.

But it wasn’t illegal. And it was his job to uphold only the law.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done about Kitty’s investigation,” Ryan said. “She’s perfectly entitled to make these claims, whether we like it or not.”

“So you’re saying we just have to put up with it?” Carla said.

“Why don’t you complain to the newspaper people?” he suggested. “They’re the ones printing the articles.”

“We’ve already done that,” Frank said. “But we want someone with official authority to get involved. You’re meant to keep order around here, so do something.”

“And just what would you suggest I do?” Ryan asked, a little perplexed. “Arrest her? For what?”

“Can’t you warn her to stop stirring up trouble?” Frank asked. “Why can’t Kitty move away and leave us in peace? It’d be nice to see the entire Linklater family gone from these parts.”

“This is Kitty’s town, too, and I don’t think she has any intention of going anywhere.” Ryan wondered if he should let the townsfolk know of his new living arrangements, but decided that now was not a good time. “I hope nobody thinks they can force Kitty out of her family home. She was attacked by a masked man yesterday, and I’m very concerned for her safety. If anyone knows anything about this attack, I’d appreciate you sharing that information.”

The station fell quiet.

Carla was the first to break the silence. She cleared her throat importantly and adjusted the collar on her starched white blouse.

“I’m sorry that Kitty’s been attacked, I really am, but she’s got to take some responsibility for her actions. Plenty of people don’t take kindly to her meddling.”

Joe was clearly more sympathetic than his wife. “Come on, honey, we don’t wish harm on her, do we?” He turned to Ryan as Carla gave her husband a stony glare. “Is Kitty okay?”

“She’s fine,” he replied. “But she’s pretty shaken up. Whatever Kitty’s father has done, she doesn’t deserve to fear for her life, so if any of you hear about who might be responsible for the attack yesterday, I’d like you to come and talk with me in confidence. We can’t allow residents to take the law into their own hands.” He caught Buzz’s eye. “Isn’t that right, young man?”

“Yes, sir,” Buzz said compliantly.

With a head of fair curls and baby blue eyes, Buzz possessed a face more suited to a boy band heartthrob than a hardware store clerk. But he was clearly cowed by his grandfather and his body language was uneasy.

“I hear that Sheriff Wilkins is retiring soon,” Frank said to Ryan. “And I’ve been told that you’re a hot contender for the job. But if you don’t get Kitty under control then your chances of support from this town don’t look good.”

Ryan frowned, unhappy with Frank’s choice of words. Kitty wasn’t a wayward animal to be brought under control. She was a human being, acting irrationally because she loved her father.

“Let’s go, Buzz,” Frank said, leading his grandson to the door. “I’m sure our new chief deputy has got a lot of work to do.”

The four residents filed from the station, leaving Ryan to contemplate just how he was going to broach this subject with Kitty. Shane was already one step ahead of him.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, trying to persuade Kitty Linklater to drop her investigation,” he said. “She won’t take kindly to you telling her what to do.”

“I don’t intend to tell her what to do. I just need to remind her that she has a responsibility to be kind to the community. They’re hurting.”

“She’s hurting, too, boss. And people in pain tend to lash out when cornered.”

Ryan rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. That was exactly what he was worried about.

* * *

Kitty walked around her house, checking that each window was closed and locked. She fingered the Band-Aid covering the cut on her forehead, pressing down the sides, feeling a bruise settling there.

On top of her worries about her attacker, she was also anxious about Ryan moving in to the apartment. She kept telling herself that his presence would be reassuring, but a more powerful emotion niggled away: dread. For months she had been increasingly rejected by a small but vocal section of the community. Most of the town was holding its peace on the issue, but those few voices kept getting louder—and there was no one actively on her side, speaking up in her defense. As a result, she’d become ever more reclusive, avoiding town functions and special events. But now she would possibly be forced to confront the hostility that she expertly evaded in her daily life. Ryan was quite open about his belief in her father’s guilt and the more she considered this fact, the more it bothered her. For a lawmaker, he was closed-minded and biased, not willing to even consider that the jury made the wrong call. Of course, she knew why. A man who’d lost his sister to a murderer at the tender age of nine would never trust the word of a convicted killer. She would simply have to live with his prejudiced mind and try not to let it bother her.

She entered the living room, jumping at a streak of black in her peripheral vision.

“Oh, Shadow,” she said in playful rebuke, seeing him walking along the windowsill outside, crying to come in. “Why don’t you use your flap like a normal cat? Okay,” she said, opening the window. “Come on in and get dry.”

He snaked through the window, walked onto the piano and shook himself over her, causing her to laugh and brush herself down. Then she reached for the handle of the window to close it up.

But someone was waiting for her.

A hand stretched up from below and firmly clasped her wrist, pulling her forward. She reacted instantly and instinctively, yanking her arm from side to side as if to shake off a spider. She looked for any indicators that would help her identify this man, but Kitty could see only a limb, an arm that belonged to a man hidden in the bush below.

Using her other hand, she pulled the window shut while simultaneously wrenching her arm inside. The frame caught the hairy limb of her attacker and he howled from below, losing his grip and pulling back, allowing her to fully shut the window. She secured the latch, turned the lock and ran from the room, snatching up her cell from the hallway table along the way.

She could hear the door being rattled as she fumbled in her pocket for Ryan’s number.

“Ryan,” she said breathlessly when he answered. “Somebody’s here again. He’s trying to get in.”

“Stay calm and I’ll be there soon.”

A bullet came through the front door, slamming hard into the wall just yards away. She screamed.

“He’s shooting!” she cried.

“I’m on my way right now,” he promised. “Do you have a gun?”

She ran up the stairs. “Yes, it’s in my bedroom.”

Another bullet zinged through the air behind her, finding a vase on the table and shattering it into pieces.

Ryan clearly heard the commotion. “Get your gun, stay upstairs and barricade yourself in your room. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be afraid to shoot, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hold tight.”

She gasped, remembering that Shadow was still in the living room. Without hesitation, she ran back down the stairs, screaming as another bullet pinged through the door, just missing her shoulder.

“Shadow,” she called. “Where are you?”

He immediately ran to the sound of her voice and she scooped him up into her arms. Then she turned and raced back to her room, as a pounding foot came down on the wooden door from outside, pummeling it.

Reaching her bedroom, she fled inside and slammed the door. After placing Shadow on the floor, Kitty used all her force to drag her dresser across the entrance, wondering if it would be enough. She figured the front door must have given way when she heard a loud bang resound through the house, and then footsteps run through the downstairs area.

“Please hurry, Ryan,” she muttered, dragging her bed across the rug to give her barricade extra strength.

The footsteps stopped. Her noise had revealed her location. Now her attacker would surely be coming for her. She slid open the top drawer of her low dresser and pulled out her black handgun, checking the bullets in the chamber. The man was there, outside her room, rattling the handle, trying to force it open.

“I have a gun,” she shouted as a warning. “And I’m not afraid to shoot.”

Silence.

Was he still there? Her heart was in her mouth as the seconds ticked by.

Then he began to kick the door, sending her dresser skipping forward a little each time. She raised her gun, aimed it at the door, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. Her bullet went right through the door, leaving a perfectly circular hole.

The kicking ceased. Had she hit him? Was he injured or worse? She repositioned the dresser securely against the door and waited. Shadow seemed to understand the danger and had hidden himself away beneath the bed.

The sound of a siren wafted in the distance. Kitty dropped to her knees with a groan of thanks. Immediately, she heard her attacker’s footsteps pounding down the staircase, scurrying away. As the siren grew louder, she gained enough confidence to heave the bed, then the dresser away, from the door and squeeze through the gap. From the top of the stairs, she saw the front door off its hinges lying on the hallway floor, pounded into pieces.

As she stared at the open doorway, it filled with Ryan’s figure, gun in hand, concern etched on his face.

“He’s gone,” she said.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, biting the inside of her lip and blinking fast. She wasn’t okay and it didn’t take Ryan long to work that out. He holstered his gun, raced up the stairs and enveloped her in a hug, telling her she was safe, that everything was fine.

That kindness prompted the tears to really flow.

* * *

Ryan helped Buzz lift the new door from the delivery truck. The door Ryan had selected was strong and robust, much more secure than the old one and likely to withstand a barrage of bullets and kicks without giving way. Shane was inside the house, collecting the bullet casings for analysis, and Ryan desperately hoped that ballistics might give them a lead because his search of the area had yielded little more than some muddy footprints leading to the forest.

Buzz eyed the old door, in pieces on the deck. “What happened here?”

“Somebody tried to get in to the house,” he said. “To hurt Kitty.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine for now.”

Buzz pushed his baseball cap farther back on his head. “When I took your order over the phone, I had to tell my granddad I was delivering to someplace else.”

“Why?”

“He says we’re not to sell to Kitty anymore. He says we don’t want her business.”

“Well, you tell your granddad that this delivery is for me, because I live here now. I just became Kitty’s new tenant.”

Buzz seemed taken aback. “Granddad’s not gonna like that.”

“I kind of guessed he wouldn’t.”

Ryan motioned for Buzz to help him carry the door up the porch steps and onto the deck, where he leaned it against the outside wall.

“I can take it from here,” he said, signing Buzz’s delivery sheet. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, sir.”

Kitty came out onto the porch, carrying her cat under her arm. “Hey, Buzz,” she said. “Does your granddad know you’re here?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied. “But when Chief Deputy Lawrence called in an emergency order, I just went and found the door you needed from our warehouse and brought it straight on down to you. I’m not really supposed to work this late.”

Buzz puffed up his chest as if proud of himself for defying his grandfather’s rules.

“I appreciate that,” Kitty said with a warm smile. “Not many people around here would put themselves out for me.”

“Maybe,” Buzz said with a shrug. “But if we can’t help a lady in need, then what’s the town coming to?”

Ryan put a hand on Buzz’s shoulder. That comment revealed maturity and a sense of decency in this young man.

“You’re a good kid,” he said, sliding a tip into his top pocket. “It’s a shame that your granddad doesn’t follow your lead.”

Buzz nodded a shy farewell and made his way back to the truck.

“What’s the story with the Price family?” Ryan asked Kitty. “What happened to Buzz’s parents?”

“Buzz’s dad is Tommy Price,” Kitty replied. “Frank and Sheila’s only son. He took off when Buzz was in the first grade, leaving him with his parents.” She looked skyward, appearing to be doing some mental calculation. “I haven’t seen Tommy in about thirteen years now. Frank says he moved to Texas.”

“What about Buzz’s mother? What happened to her?”

“Elena was a girl from out of town, a drifter who sometimes stayed at a commune in the mountains and did casual work around Bethesda. After Buzz was born, she left pretty quick, giving Tommy parental responsibility. She never came back. It was a sad situation. I remember my mom offering to help out, but the Price family is proud. They didn’t want anybody prying into their business.”

“Well, I gotta say that someone’s instilled good principles into that kid,” Ryan said. “He’s nothing like his grandfather.”

“I think Frank’s wife, Sheila, is the one to thank for Buzz’s character. She’s like a mom to him, but they’re both bullied by Frank. He’s a strong personality.”

“He sure is,” Ryan said. “He came marching into the station in a fit of temper this morning.”

Kitty groaned, placing Shadow on the ground and leaning against the wall. “Let me guess—it was in response to my newspaper article.”

“You’ve got it.”

“Well, they needn’t worry,” she said. “That’ll be the last one I write for the Comanche Times about my father.”

Ryan was incredibly relieved. Perhaps Frank and Carla would be appeased by this news.

“Listen,” he began, watching a swift swooping over the lake. “You’ve made some enemies in town by investigating a murder that’s already been solved.”

“It’s not been solved,” she said. “Because the wrong man is in prison.”

He concentrated on tracking the swift, its undulating flight mesmerizing and calming. He would have to tread carefully with Kitty, not allowing his frustration to cause friction between them. But there were things she needed to hear.

“Kitty,” he said, in what he hoped was a gentle, nonpatronizing tone. “Your dad had a lawyer who already did this kind of work for him. There was a police investigation and a full jury trial. If your father’s lawyer couldn’t generate reasonable doubt, what makes you so sure that you stand a better chance?”

“The court-appointed lawyer was useless,” she replied, remembering how disappointed she had felt upon first meeting him. “He kept trying to persuade Dad to plead guilty and take a deal. He never believed in his innocence.”

Ryan couldn’t help but agree with the lawyer. “Taking a deal would probably have been a smart move.”

“I know that you’re not on my side in this,” she said with obvious derision. “But I wish you’d keep your opinions to yourself. I don’t need the negativity.” She rubbed her temples. “This is hard enough already.”

How hard did she think it was for the family of a murder victim? Kitty had no idea of the pain and suffering he had gone through, knowing his sister’s last moments were likely filled with pain and fear. Just like the family of Molly Thomas, Ryan’s family was also serving a life sentence, forever changed by that single devastating event. By denying that justice had been served for the Thomas family, Kitty was condemning Molly’s parents to relive the murder over and over. It simply wasn’t fair.

“I just want you to think about what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re a young woman with your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t want to see you waste it on a pointless fight.”

She folded her arms across her chest and crinkled her brow. The Band-Aid on her forehead was beginning to peel at the edges and he resisted the urge to smooth it down with his thumbs.

“I’m not wasting my life,” she said defensively. “I’m standing up for the truth, and even if it takes me fifty years, I will prove that my father didn’t kill Molly.”

Kitty’s bullheadedness was maddening and Ryan felt he was fighting a losing battle. “Your investigation is putting you in danger,” he said.

“I know that,” she snapped. “Molly’s real killer wants to eliminate me.”

Ryan wondered if they might both be right. Kitty’s attacker had clearly shown his willingness to kill. This went beyond someone just venting anger or aggravation at her—the man wanted her dead. Maybe he really was afraid that she’d uncover evidence against him. Not that Ryan thought Harry Linklater was innocent, but perhaps Harry had killed Molly with the help of an accomplice. That would certainly give someone a very big incentive to stop Kitty’s investigation. Was Harry protecting the identity of a possible partner in crime? And was this person now determined to hide his involvement in the murder? It was a plausible line of inquiry, but Ryan knew he could never voice this theory to Kitty. She wouldn’t accept any explanation that didn’t fully clear her father.

“Whatever the motives of your attacker,” he said, diplomatically, “you’re in grave danger, so surely it makes sense to ease off the investigation until we catch this guy.”

“No!” Did he just see a little stamp of her foot? “I’ll be going to see Harvey from the Starlight Bar tomorrow to question him about his witness testimony. I want to know why he lied. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him, he’s shut me out, but I intend to make sure he acknowledges me this time.”

“You can’t harass someone like that,” Ryan said in exasperation. “If Harvey doesn’t want to speak with you, then you should leave him alone.”

“For a law enforcement officer, you sure are closed-minded.”

That comment stung. “I am not closed-minded,” he said. “I’m able to see this situation from an impartial perspective.”

“No, you’re not,” she retorted. “How can you be impartial when your sister was murdered just like Molly was? That fact will always affect your judgment.”

He fell silent and Kitty did the same, a look of horror creeping across her face.

“I’m really sorry, Ryan,” she said quietly. “I should never have brought up your sister, but I feel so strongly about my father’s situation.”

He was deeply disappointed that she had referenced his sister in the same sentence as her father. The names Gina Lawrence and Harry Linklater should never be placed side by side. One was an amazing girl cut down in childhood, and the other a convicted killer who should remain forever in a prison cell.

“We might need to learn to set some boundaries, huh?” Kitty said awkwardly. “Because we’ll never see eye to eye on this.”

“Right now, I’m more concerned with fixing this entrance and making you nice and secure,” he said, heaving the door across the deck and into place. “I’ll get on with this before I get an official statement from you. So in the meantime why don’t you think about what happened today and jot down any details you can remember? We should build a profile of the guy and try to come up with a list of suspects.”

“Sure, I’ll leave you to it.”

Ryan opened his toolbox and lifted out a screwdriver. He clenched the handle in his fingers, gripping tightly and letting the resentment flow out. Kitty had no clue how to set boundaries. She was incapable of seeing the truth, determined to win this battle at all costs, even her own life.

That short conversation had revealed a deep division between them, an insurmountable barrier that he had no idea how to bridge. Living here was going to be not only dangerous, but fraught with emotional difficulty.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.