“That I believe. What else is going on that Lindsey’s so handy with guns and fearless about using them?”
Lindsey bowed her head for a moment. “I have a stalker. My former sister-in-law. She’s been threatening to kill me since my husband, her brother, committed suicide.”
“That’s a good reason,” Skinner said with a tiny smile. “And you couldn’t tell me all this earlier?”
“I don’t like talking about any of it, okay?” Lindsey snapped. “And I figured if you knew I threatened someone with a gun, you’d arrest me.”
“I suspected the same thing,” I added.
“Had you threatened someone without cause,” Skinner said, “I would have. But lethal force in self-defense and the defense of someone else is legal. We all know how dangerous Rivers is. Our department has been after him for quite a while, and he keeps slipping away.”
Lindsey returned to the kitchen. “I’ll get the coffee.”
“I wish you’d have trusted me,” Skinner went on.
“Lindsey has serious trust issues,” I replied. “Nor can I blame her. I really thought you’d clap her in handcuffs.”
He shook his head. “Not in an instance like this. She saved your bacon?”
“And then some.”
“We’re suspecting a rival,” Skinner said as Lindsey arrived with coffee mugs, “killed Rivers’s goon. Drove with him to that old farmhouse, smashed his head in, then wiped his truck of prints. Then left via another vehicle.”
I offered a slow shrug. “The guy that took Austin’s fentanyl in the first place?”
“He’d be a good suspect,” Skinner agreed. “No idea who that could be?”
“Austin said the thief wore my letterman’s jacket,” I answered. “Looked like me. I started a search for a dude from my high school who might have stolen it. I came up with zilch. So far. I could keep looking.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would. Whoever stole it might be our culprit.”
“Okay. I guess I can’t work for a day or so. I can use the time to poke through old school pics.”
Lindsey poured coffee into the mugs, then handed them to Skinner and me. She sat beside me, drinking from hers, her eyes lowered. I couldn’t read her thoughts – she kept her face strictly neutral. The way she’d been when I first met her.
“So how can I help you with your ex sis-in-law?” Skinner asked. “Is she in town?”
“I don’t know,” Lindsey replied. “She called the other day to threaten me. I’ll confess right now I told her to bring it on. If she shows her face here, she’s dead.”
Defiance crossed her beautiful features. She stared at Skinner as though expecting him to denounce her. To scold her for threatening deadly force against another human being. Instead, he looked down at his cup.
“Don’t look for trouble,” he said quietly. “Play it safe, play it smart.”
“I left California, hoping to start over,” Lindsey said, sighing. “She found me. I don’t know how. I ran away to escape her and her threats, Detective. She had me scared. I thought about running again. She’d only find me. I’m not the one looking for trouble.”
“What’s her name?”
Lindsey swallowed. “Bethany Byrd. With a Y.”
“And your husband’s name?”
“Franklin Byrd. He’s dead.”
“You mentioned that. Anything else you want to add, Lindsey?”
Setting her cup down, Lindsey crossed her arms over her bosom. She shut her eyes, her head bowed. I noticed with concern that her body trembled. Resting my hand on her knee, I tried to send my love and worry to her through telepathy.
If she got the message, she didn’t show it.
