Ice Cold Killer Page 6

  “Ryder Stewart.” Ryder didn’t offer his hand—he had the impression Rutledge wouldn’t have taken it. “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “You’d better come in.” Rutledge moved out of the doorway and into a cluttered living room. A guitar and two pairs of skis leaned against one wall, while a large-screen TV and a video gaming console occupied most of another. Rutledge clearly liked his toys.

  Rutledge leaned against the door frame of the entrance to the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  “How well did you know Kelly Farrow?” Ryder asked.

  “Pretty well. I mean, we lived right next to each other. We were friends.”

  “Did you ever date her?”

  Rutledge grinned. “She flirted with me. I think she would have gone out with me if I’d asked, but she wasn’t my type.”

  Ryder wondered if this meant he’d asked her out, but Kelly had turned him down. “What is your type?”

  “I like a woman who’s a little quieter. Petite. Kelly had too much of a mouth on her.”

  Quiet and petite—like Darcy. Ryder took out his notebook and pen—more to have something to do with his hands than to make notes. He wasn’t likely to forget anything this guy said. “You dated Darcy Marsh,” he said.

  Rutledge shifted, uncrossing his arms and tucking his thumbs in the front pockets of the cargo shorts. “We went out a few times.”

  “She says you weren’t too happy when she broke it off.”

  “Yeah, well, she would say that, wouldn’t she?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Women always try to make themselves look like the victim.”

  “So what did happen between you two?” Ryder asked.

  “I was really busy—I teach school and coach basketball. Darcy was a little too needy. I didn’t give her the attention she wanted.” He shrugged. “I let her down easy but I guess I hurt her feelings, anyway.”

  Ryder pretended to consult his notebook. “Where were you last night about six thirty?” he asked.

  “Why? Did they find another body?”

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s see—there was a game at the high school. The varsity team—I coach JV—but I was there to watch.”

  Ryder made a note of this. It ought to be easy enough to check. “What about Tuesday night?” he asked.

  “I was home, playing an online game with a couple of friends.”

  “I’ll need their names and contact information.”

  “Sure. I can give that to you.” He moved to a laptop that was open on a table by the sofa and manipulated a mouse. While he made notes on a sheet of paper torn from a spiral notebook, Ryder looked around the room. There were no photographs, and the only artwork on the wall was a framed poster from a music festival in a nearby town.

  “Here you go.” Rutledge handed Ryder the piece of paper. “And since I know you’re going to ask anyway, the day Kelly was killed, I was teaching school. That’ll be easy for you to check.”

  Ryder folded the paper and tucked it into the back of his notebook. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill Kelly Farrow?” he asked. “Did she ever mention anyone who had threatened her, or did you ever see anyone suspicious near the house?”

  Ken shook his head. “It could have been anybody, really,” he said.

  Most people said things like “everybody liked Kelly” or “she never made an enemy.” “Why do you say that?” Ryder asked.

  “Like I said, she had a mouth on her. And she dated lots of men—though none for very long. Maybe she said the wrong thing to one of them.”

  “And you think that would justify killing her?”

  Ken took a step back. “No, man. I’m just saying, if the wrong guy had a hair trigger—it might be enough to make him snap. There are a lot of sick people in this world.”

  Ryder put away the notebook and took out one of his cards. “Call me if you think of anything,” he said. Though Rutledge’s alibis sounded solid enough, he couldn’t shake the feeling the man was hiding something. Ryder would be keeping an eye on him.

  * * *

  AT SEVEN THIRTY Thursday morning a mechanic from O’Brien’s Garage delivered a battered pickup truck in several shades of green and gray to Darcy’s door. “She looks like crap, but she runs good,” the young man said as he handed over the keys. He rode off with the friend who had followed him to her place, and Darcy hoisted herself up into the vehicle, wishing for a step stool, it was so high off the ground. She felt tiny in the front seat—even the steering wheel felt too big for her hands. But as promised, the truck ran smoothly and carried her safely into town.

  She had discarded the cervical collar that morning. While much of her was sore, none of the aches and pains felt serious. Her patients might all have fur or feathers, but she considered herself competent to assess her own injuries.

  She stopped by Eagle Mountain Grocery, hoping the store would be mostly empty this time of morning. All she needed was a deli sandwich, since she planned to eat lunch at her desk again. She had layered on makeup in an attempt to hide the worst of the bruising, but she was sure she faced a day full of explaining what had happened to her.

  As hoped, the store was mostly empty when she arrived. She hurried to the deli and ordered a turkey sandwich on cranberry bread, and debated adding a cookie while the clerk filled her order. A few more minutes and she’d be safely out of here.

  “Darcy Marsh, you’ve got a lot of nerve!”

  The strident voice rang through the store like a crack of thunder. Darcy turned to see Sharon Nichols steering her grocery cart toward her. For a tense moment Darcy thought Sharon intended to run her over. She had a flash of herself, pinned to the glass-fronted deli case by the cart.

  But Sharon stopped a few inches short of hitting Darcy. “Haven’t you done enough to hurt us?” she demanded, lines etched deeper in her face than Darcy remembered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Darcy spoke softly, hoping Sharon would lower her voice, as well. As it was, the two workers in the deli had both turned to stare.

  “You complained about my husband to that cop and now he won’t leave us alone.” Sharon leaned closer, but didn’t lower her voice. “He had the nerve to suggest Ed murdered those girls. Ed—who wouldn’t hurt a fly! Why do you hate us so much?”

  Darcy took a step back, desperately wanting to get away from Sharon and the angry words, which battered her like a club. “I don’t hate you,” she said. “And I never suggested Ed killed anyone. I don’t believe that.”

  “You should go back to wherever you’re from and leave us alone. Ed has lived here all his life. He had a good business, taking care of the animals in this county, then you and your friend had to move in and try to take over.”

  “We didn’t try to take over. There’s room enough in Eagle Mountain for all of us.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it!” Sharon inched closer until the end of her cart pressed against Darcy’s hips. “You came in with your fancy new office and pretty faces, undercutting us, trying to put us out of business.”

  “That’s not true.” If anything, the fees she and Kelly charged were higher than Ed’s, but there was no use pointing that out to Sharon. Darcy glanced around. Two women peered from the end of one aisle, and one of the checkout people and a stocker had gathered to watch, as well. “I think you should go,” she said softly.

  “You won’t run us out of town,” Sharon said, tears streaming down her face. “You won’t. We’ll force you to leave first.”

  She turned and, seeing her chance, Darcy fled. She fumbled the keys into the ignition of the truck and drove out of the lot, scarcely seeing her surroundings, her mind too full of the image of Sharon Nichols’s furious face.

  Her final words, abou
t making Darcy leave town, left a sick feeling in the pit of Darcy’s stomach. She had never seen anyone so angry. Was Ed that angry, too? Were the Nicholses angry enough to kill?

  * * *

  RYDER STEPPED INTO the clinic and was greeted by furious barking from a small white terrier, who strained on the end of its leash. “I’m sorry about that.” A middle-age woman with red curly hair scooped up the barking dog. “He thinks he has to protect me from everyone.”

  “Hello, Officer.” The receptionist, a blue-eyed blonde with long, silver-painted fingernails, greeted him from behind the front counter. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like a word with Darcy, if she’s free.”

  “Wait just a few minutes.”

  He took a seat. The terrier glared at him from the redhead’s lap. The office smelled of disinfectant. A brochure rack on the wall offered information on various ailments from arthritis to kennel cough, and a locked cabinet displayed a variety of cat and dog food and treats.

  The door to the back office opened and a gray-haired couple emerged, the man toting a cat carrier. Darcy followed them out. “Bring her back on Tuesday and we’ll remove the bandage,” Darcy said. “And don’t let her near any more mousetraps.” She looked over Ryder’s shoulder and sent him a questioning look.

  He stood and as the couple moved to the front desk to pay, he slipped through the door and followed her into a small exam room where she sprayed the exam table with disinfectant and began to wipe it down. “Stacy said you wanted to talk to me,” she said.

  He shut the door to the room behind him. “Just to tell you that I talked to Ken Rutledge and his alibis for last night, and the times of the murders check out.” Several people remembered seeing Ken at the basketball game, his online buddies had vouched for the times he had been involved in their game and he had had a full load of classes the day Kelly was murdered, including lunchroom and bus duty.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She all but sagged with relief. “I hated to think I’d misjudged him so badly—that he was capable of something like that.”

  “He had a different story about your relationship, though,” Ryder said.

  “Oh?” She went back to wiping down the table and counters.

  “He says he broke it off because you were too clingy.”

  She let out a bark of laughter. “That’s not what happened, but if it makes him feel better to say so, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  “He also said Kelly flirted with him, but she wasn’t his type.”

  “Oh, please. Kelly was gorgeous. She was nice to everyone, which I guess some men take as flirting, but she wasn’t interested in Ken.” She tucked the bottle of disinfectant back in a cabinet over the sink and dropped a handful of used paper towels in the trash can by the door. “To tell you the truth, I think she introduced him to me as a way to get him off her back.”

  “So he may be a jerk, but I don’t think he’s the person who’s harassing you.” He leaned against the end of the counter. “Have you heard any more from Marge?”

  “No. And I doubt I will.”

  “I checked with Ed Nichols. He says he never got a call from a woman about a large dog that needed a house call.”

  A shadow passed over her face as if she was in pain. “What is it?” Ryder asked. “What’s wrong?”

  She glanced over his shoulder as if making sure the door was still closed. “I ran into Sharon Nichols at the grocery store this morning,” she said. “She cornered me and demanded to know why I was trying to ruin her husband’s life. She was so furious, she was almost...unhinged.”

  Ryder tensed. “Did she threaten you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What did she say—exactly?”

  “She said I wouldn’t run them out of town—that they would make me leave first.”

  “She didn’t elaborate?”

  “No. And I really think she was just talking. She was so upset.”

  “I’ll have a word with her.”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm. “Please. You’ll only make things worse.”

  His first inclination was to deny this. If the Nicholses had any intention of harming Darcy, he wanted to make it clear he would see they were punished, swiftly and harshly.

  But the pleading look in Darcy’s eyes forced him to calm down. “I won’t say anything to them,” he said. “But I will keep an eye on them.”

  She took her hand from his arm. He wanted to pull it back—to pull her close and comfort her. Last night he had kissed her cheek on impulse, but he had wanted to kiss her lips. Would she have pushed him away if he tried?

  “I need to get back to work,” she said, glancing toward the door again.

  “Just one more question,” he said. “Though you may not like it.”

  “Oh?”

  “What happened with the man who raped you?”

  She hadn’t expected that, he could tell. “If he’s not in prison, I think it would be worth tracking him down,” he said. “Just to make sure he isn’t in Rayford County.”

  She nodded. “He was caught. I testified at the trial. I think he’s still in prison.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Jay Leverett. You don’t think he’s come after me again—not here?” Her skin had turned a shade paler.

  “I’m just going to check.”

  She nodded. “This whole thing scares me. But I can’t let that stop me from living my life.”

  “I don’t like you out there at that little house by yourself.” He’d meant to keep his fears to himself, but suddenly couldn’t.

  “It’s my home. And my cats’ home.” She frowned. “Ken asked me to move in with him. I told him no way.”

  If Ryder asked her to move in with him, would she lump him in the same category as Ken? “You could move into Kelly’s place,” he said. “It’s right in town, with more people around.”

  “No. I can’t make you understand, but it’s important to me to be strong enough to stay put. One thing I learned after I was raped was that fear was my worst enemy. Let me put it this way—if you were the one being threatened, would you move out of your home?”

  “Probably not.” He wanted to argue that he was a trained professional—but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he said. “And keep your phone charged and with you at all times, with my number on speed dial. Call 911 first, then call me.”

  “I will. And thank you.” She reached past him for the doorknob. “Now I have to get back to my patients.”

  The terrier growled at him as he passed. He ignored the dog and went back outside. Snow swirled around him in big white flakes. The sun that had shone earlier had disappeared and there was already an inch of snow on his Tahoe. The city’s one snowplow trundled past him as he waited to turn onto Main Street. From the looks of things, the highway wouldn’t be opening back up today. Was the killer getting antsy, looking for his next victim? If he was the person who went after Darcy last night, he had failed. How long would he wait before trying again?

  Chapter Seven

  Friday afternoon Darcy watched the young woman lead the horse the length of the barn and back and nodded. “I think she’s more comfortable with the leg wrapped, don’t you?” she said.

  “Yes, I do.” Emily Walker, younger sister to Travis and Gage Walker, brushed back a sweep of long, dark hair and smiled at Darcy. “Thanks so much for coming out here to look at her.” She rubbed the horse’s nose. “I’ve only ridden her once since I got here and she was fine then. I couldn’t believe it this morning when I came out and found she’d gone lame.”

  “Keep the wrapping on, let her rest and give her the anti-inflammatories I prescribed,” Darcy said. “If she’s not better in a couple of days, call me and we can do some more extensive testing, but I think she’ll be okay.”

>   “I hope so.” Emily gave the horse another pat, then both women exited the stall. “Thanks again for driving out here. I wasn’t really looking forward to pulling a horse trailer on these snowy roads.”

  “I take it you’re here for the wedding?” Darcy asked.

  “It’s my winter break, so I’d probably be here, anyway, but of course I’m staying over for the wedding.” Emily grinned. “It’s going to be so beautiful. I adore Lacy and though my big brother likes to play it all serious and unemotional, I can tell he’s over the moon in love. I’m so happy for them both.”

  “You’re from Denver?” Darcy asked.

  “Fort Collins. I’m in grad school at Colorado State University.”

  “That’s where I went to school,” Darcy said.

  “I love it there,” Emily said. She stretched her arms over her head. “But I can’t tell you how great it is not to have to think about classes and data analysis and lab reports and all of that for a few weeks. I’m determined to make the most of my time at home, snow or no snow.” She put a hand on Darcy’s arm. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “I have office hours until noon.” With Kelly gone, she was working six days a week—six long days, since she was handling all the office visits as well as house calls. She had rearranged her schedule this afternoon in order to make this call, but she had a full slate of patients for the rest of the afternoon. She hadn’t had time to think much about how she was going to manage to keep up with such a schedule.

  “Come here for the afternoon,” Emily said. “I’m hosting a snowshoe scavenger hunt for the wedding party and any other young people I can get up here. We might all be trapped by the snow, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it.”

  Kelly would have jumped at that kind of invitation—she adored parties and meeting new people. Darcy, on the other hand, had been looking forward to an afternoon curled up on the sofa with the cats around her and a good book. “Oh, thanks so much,” she said. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Since my partner died I’m pretty much buried under work.” Not a lie.