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
