Carter snorted an exhausted laugh. “What’d you find?”
Dread settled in the pit of Lincoln’s stomach. His news wasn’t going to help Carter’s dark mood either. He drew four piles of photos toward them. “Pictures of Larry from around the time each cycle started.”
Carter spread out the pictures. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, lines forming at the corners of each. He was seeing the same thing Lincoln had—a happy man, not one who looked distressed or like he needed an escape from his life.
“He’s smiling in all these,” Carter said.
Lincoln gestured to a pile on the adjacent table. “In those too.”
“What are those?”
“Pictures of Larry in and around town during Dr. Fear’s cycles.”
Carter’s voice rose. “He’s got an alibi?”
“Technically, he could have gone back and forth but it makes it a lot harder. And that doesn’t square with the profile.”
“But that”—he jabbed a finger at the alibi stack—“doesn’t square with the way he acted this morning.”
The dread in Lincoln’s gut dropped to his feet, a lead weight taking his stomach with it to the floor. “You went to see him? Without me?”
“You were busy here.”
“He’s our prime suspect.”
Carter gestured, arms wide, at the stacks of photos. “You’re telling me he’s not.”
Not the point. “You went there without backup.”
“Wasn’t needed.” Carter shot out of his seat, too quick for Lincoln to grab a wrist or handful of fabric. “I didn’t intend to make an arrest.”
“What did you intend to do?”
“The same thing I’ve intended to do since we started this. Give Dr. Fear another target.”
Lincoln stood more slowly, unsure of the steadiness of his legs. “What did you do, Carter?” he asked, voice shaking, sure he wouldn’t like the answer.
“I told him who we were.”
Nope, didn’t like it one bit, but Lincoln’s knees weren’t wobbling anymore, infused instead with indignation. “You told him who we were? After you just reamed me out for telling Jeremiah the same. Jeremiah, who we’d eliminated as a suspect, BTW.”
Carter sneered. “BTW.”
“What?” Lincoln snapped.
“You’re forty-two and you talk like a teenager.”
“Because I have one! You’re thirty-two and you leave your shit all over the place. What’s your excuse?”
Carter rocked back a step. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.”
Lincoln tried to rein in his voice, tried to get them back on track. “I feel like you’re so focused on Larry being Dr. Fear that you’re looking for confirmation instead of assessing the whole picture.”
“Are you saying I don’t know how to do my job? Or do you just not care anymore, now that Ollie’s kid’s been rescued?”
So much for back on track. Anger took the wheel, speeding around dangerous curves. “That’s horseshit.” Lincoln spread his arms toward the tables covered in work. Covered in how much he’d cared since dropping everything and rushing here last week, staying here even after Ruby and Chase had been rescued. “Does this look like I don’t care?”
“Barry and Trudy are important to people too. I’m trying to save them before this town loses someone else. They’ve been welcoming to us here, and we can help them.”
