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