Книга - Warrior Son

Warrior Son
Rita Herron


A NATIVE SON ON A STRANGER’S LANDDeputy Sheriff Roan Whitefeather never thought he’d set foot on Horseshoe Creek. He was from a different world, but when the ranch's patriarch died unexpectedly, Roan suspected foul play. And so did Dr. Megan Lail. Roan had been trying to avoid the beautiful medical examiner since the one incredible night they'd spent in each other's arms. After all, they had work to do. But crossing paths again only stirred up old feelings–and an even older web of murder and deception. The deeper he investigated, the more he realized everyone had secrets. What would they do when they realized Roan held the biggest secret of them all?









He wanted to make love to her.


Sweat beaded on his brow, and he silently cursed.

He couldn’t do any of those things because as hard as he’d tried not to care about her, he was starting to have feelings for her.

She looked up at him with that sweet, seductive look as they walked into her den, and he gruffly ordered her to go to bed and get some sleep.

Hurt flickered in her eyes, but he assured himself it was for the best. She didn’t argue. She hurried to her bedroom, making him feel like a heel.

Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, and even though he didn’t think he could sleep, he stretched out on Megan’s sofa. He laid his gun by his side just in case of trouble, then closed his eyes.

He could practically hear her whisper his name as if she wanted him to come to her.

Furious with himself, he rolled to his side to face the door, a reminder of the reason he couldn’t leave. Megan was in danger, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

If anyone tried, they’d have to kill him first.




Warrior Son

Rita Herron







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling author RITA HERRON wrote her first book when she was twelve but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former nursery school teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. Rita lives in Georgia with her family. She loves to hear from readers, so please visit her website, www.ritaherron.com (http://www.ritaherron.com).


For Sue, a cowboy lover!


Contents

Cover (#u19b8dd02-9d1e-538c-b9cb-a864ee6a97dc)

Introduction (#uc338a19b-8e2a-585d-8468-0c6217782683)

Title Page (#uceef27d4-ee5b-5256-9913-866e7d515080)

About the Author (#u9b179f7d-b9b1-5aad-81c3-bdb8a11b5986)

Dedication (#u6479381c-275f-5ed6-b04c-e7a4fb750c4b)

Chapter One (#u331752e4-5e79-5974-a39f-6696635091da)

Chapter Two (#uc59a4674-1bc5-51c4-8a40-c32729c38b7d)

Chapter Three (#u45854f3a-6355-5cdb-af74-553bf260e2fb)

Chapter Four (#ue9ba34e8-c0d3-598a-8299-5171e2fc097c)

Chapter Five (#uf15ec757-a7de-51ff-a5b3-73d19fdcd354)

Chapter Six (#ua3ca89ba-6bda-5c25-a67e-4063ed01b3b1)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_b558545a-51fd-57e8-82d3-63edfa8ccbf3)

Deputy Roan Whitefeather didn’t belong on McCullen land.

Yet here he stood at the edge of the party celebrating Ray McCullen’s marriage to Scarlet Lovett like the outsider he was.

Even though he was blood related to the McMullen men. Even though Joe McCullen was also his father.

He was alone. And he would keep it that way.

Maddox, Brett and Ray had no idea that he was their half brother. Hell, he hadn’t known until a few months ago when his mother died and he’d found that damn birth certificate.

And after the trouble the McCullens had this past week—two fires on the ranch—and the bombshell that Joe had a son named Bobby with his mistress, Barbara, Roan would keep the truth about his paternity quiet.

A noise sounded from the hill to the right, and he pivoted, senses honed. Since they still hadn’t apprehended the person responsible for the fires, he had to keep an eye out for trouble. With the entire family in celebratory mode, their guards were down. Which would give anyone with a grudge against the McCullens the perfect opportunity to attack.

Maddox, the town sheriff and Roan’s boss, stepped in front of the group gathered on the lawn by the creek and raised his champagne glass to toast the happy couple.

For a moment envy mushroomed inside him as he watched Ray kiss Scarlet, and the other brothers and their wives congratulating and hugging one another.

They had weathered some storms, but they were one big happy family now.

The only family he’d ever known was his mother and the people on the res.

He didn’t need family or anyone else, he reminded himself.

Still, he’d protect the McCullens because it was his job. And his job was all that mattered to him.

Although questions nagged at him. If Joe McCullen had known about Roan, would he have spent time with him? Would he have brought him to Horseshoe Creek and introduced him to his half brothers?

Or would he have hidden him away like he had his other illegitimate son Bobby Lowman?

The wind blew the trees rustling the leaves, and he scanned the horizon again. The ranch spread for hundreds of miles, livestock and horses roaming the pastures. Joe McCullen had definitely built a legacy here for his sons. And although Ray and Brett had been gone for years, they’d recently returned and planned to help Maddox run the ranch.

Someone didn’t want the McCullens to thrive, though. Someone who might have a grudge against Joe besides his mistress and son, Bobby. For all he knew, the problems could be about the land or the way Joe did business.

Hell, if Maddox, Brett or Ray knew Roan was blood related, they might accuse him of sabotage.

All the more reason to keep quiet about who he was.

And all the more reason to keep his questions about Joe’s death to himself until he found out if there was any substance to his suspicions.

* * *

DR. MEGAN LAIL finished her autopsy report on a man named Morty Burns, a ranch hand who’d been shot and left dead outside Pistol Whip, Wyoming. So far, the police had no idea who’d shot him, but she’d done her job—established time and cause of death and recovered the bullet that had taken the man’s life.

She had been infatuated with dead bodies since her sister’s murder. Not that she enjoyed the morbid side of death, but the bodies told the story.

Just as she’d been driven to know who killed Shelly, family members deserved to know the answers about their loved ones. And it was comforting to know she could help give them closure.

Still, her father had been disappointed in her. He’d raved about Shelly and her beauty, constantly reminding Megan that she hadn’t been graced with extraordinary looks, that she had to use her brain to get anywhere in life. She hadn’t minded that at all. Science had always interested her.

When Shelly had been killed and investigators had converged, she’d realized that the medical examiner was the one who’d discovered the clue that led to the culprit. Sitting at the trial with her father, she’d decided she wanted to be an ME.

She removed her gloves, filed her report, then clicked to the news and studied the story about the recent arrest of Bobby and Barbara Lowman made by Deputy Roan Whitefeather and the sheriff. The arrests had hit big in Pistol Whip because they centered around the McCullens of Horseshoe Creek and revealed that the patriarch of the family, Joe, who had recently died, had another family on the side.

A mistress named Barbara and an illegitimate son, Bobby.

Bobby had resented Joe for years, and his mother Barbara felt betrayed because Joe never married her. They’d also been upset over the stipulations Joe placed on the will regarding Bobby’s inheritance, that Bobby would have to work under the tutelage of Maddox.

They’d pulled a gun on Scarlet and threatened the family, and both were in prison. But neither admitted to setting the two fires on the ranch, one of which had ruined the family’s long-standing home.

More details followed in the article.

Former rodeo star Brett McCullen has offered a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the arsonist.

Megan massaged her temple as her mind took a leap. Something had been bothering her about Joe McCullen’s autopsy.

Her curious nature, the attribute that helped her most in her job, pummeled her with what-ifs. What if Joe’s death hadn’t been due to his illness?

She’d detected something odd about the tox screen and relayed her concerns to Dr. Cumberland, the McCullens’ family doctor and Joe’s lifelong friend.

The conversation replayed in her head.

“You’re young and new to this, Megan. You obviously made a mistake,” Dr. Cumberland had said. “I took care of Joe during his illness. He had emphysema. Just look at his X-rays and scans.”

She’d looked at them and Joe had in fact had emphysema. “But there are slight traces of a toxin indicating he was poisoned. It appears to be cyanide.”

Dr. Cumberland had scanned her notes and scowled. “Run the tests again. This can’t be right.”

Megan had gone to the lab, extracted another sample and sent it to be tested. An hour later, Dr. Cumberland had hand delivered the report to her.

“See, there is no sign of poison. The lab tech mixed up the reports. The result you first received was for another case.”

Yet the fact that someone was trying to hurt the McCullens bothered her. She was meticulous in her work and never made mistakes.

And she couldn’t let this go without one more look. Adrenaline pumping, she accessed the autopsy file. Guilt nagged at her for questioning Dr. Cumberland, though.

The family physician had worked in Pistol Whip for years. Everyone in town adored him. For goodness’ sake, he’d delivered half the town’s babies, including the McCullen boys, Maddox, Brett and Ray.

And he had been distraught over Joe’s death.

He wouldn’t have had any reason to lie to her or cover up a tox report.

But...something just didn’t feel right. She didn’t think she’d made a mistake...

She picked up the phone and called the lab tech, a young guy named Howard, then explained about the two different results.

“I guess it’s possible that I mixed them up,” Howard said. “But I double-check everything. I’m OCD that way.”

So was she. In their line of work, details were important.

Howard cleared his throat. “If you still have a sample I can retest.”

Megan’s pulse hammered. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll send it over right now, Howard. But please keep this between you and me.”

“Sure, Megan. What’s going on?”

“I just want to double-check for myself.”

He agreed to call her when he was done, and she decided she’d talk to Deputy Whitefeather while she waited on the results. He would know if Joe had any enemies.

She didn’t want to bother Joe’s sons unless she had something concrete.

The thought of seeing the deputy again stirred a hot sensation deep in her belly. She’d met Roan when he worked on the res on the tribal council.

When his mother died, she’d performed the autopsy. Roan had been devastated. His mother was all the family he had.

She’d hated to see the big, strong man in pain. A comforting hug had led to a kiss. A kiss filled with such loneliness that she hadn’t been able to resist. They’d made love for hours.

Sometimes at night when she was alone, she closed her eyes and could still feel his big, strong hands touching her, stroking her, loving her. She’d never felt anything so intense.

But the next morning, he’d walked away from her and hadn’t spoken to her since.

What would he say if she showed up with questions about Joe McCullen’s death?

* * *

ROAN CONGRATULATED THE happy couple before he drove back to the cabin he’d rented on the river. He missed the res, but working for the sheriff’s department meant he worked for all the people in Pistol Whip and the county it encompassed, so living in a neutral, more central location seemed wisest.

“Did you see anything suspicious tonight?” Maddox asked as they watched Scarlet toss the bouquet.

“No. I’ll ride across the property on my way home and take a look around, though.”

“Thanks.” Maddox shook his hand. “I appreciate you covering the office while Rose and I were gone. Brett said he was going to hire extra security for the ranch for a while, at least until we find out who set those fires. He’s rebuilding the barns and the main house is already done.”

“Extra security is not a bad idea,” Roan said. Maddox, Brett and Ray couldn’t keep up the ranch and do surveillance around the clock by themselves.

After all, on a spread this size, there were dozens of places for someone to hide.

Some blonde caught the bouquet, prompting squeals from the guests, and Maddox joined his wife on the dance floor.

Roan leaned against the edge of the makeshift bar they’d set up for the reception, his mouth watering for a cold beer. But he didn’t drink on the job.

The McCullen men danced and swayed with their wives, and for some odd reason, a pang hit him. They looked so damn happy.

They were family.

Something he didn’t have anymore.

Yet...they were his blood kin.

It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to tell them.

Hell, they’d probably think he was like Bobby Lowman, that he wanted something from them.

He wanted nothing but to live in peace. Caring about folks meant pain when they went away.

His mother’s face flashed in his mind. Truth be known, she was the only person in the world he’d ever loved.

His phone buzzed, and he checked the number, surprised to see Dr. Megan Lail’s name appear. Damn, he hadn’t seen her since last year, the night his mother died.

Since the night they’d...gotten hot and sweaty between the sheets.

Perspiration broke out on his brow and he swiped at it. It was the most erotic sex he’d ever had. For months he’d dreamed about it, woken up to an image of Megan’s breasts swaying above him as she impaled herself on his shaft. Of him pumping inside her, of her ivory skin blushing with passion and her soft moans of ecstasy filling the air.

The phone jarred him again, and he cursed and stepped aside, away from the festivities so he could hear. She was the ME, after all. She might have news about a case.

“Deputy Whitefeather.”

“Roan, it’s Dr. Lail. Megan.”

The sound of her husky voice triggered more memories of their lovemaking and made his body go rock hard.

He kept his reply short, afraid he’d give away the yearning in his voice if he said too much. “Yeah?”

“I need to see you.”

His breath stalled in his chest. She needed him? Instantly his thoughts turned to worry. What if the damn condoms hadn’t worked that night? They’d made love—how many times?

“Megan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said softly, arousing tender feelings inside him. Feelings he didn’t want to have.

“Then why did you call?”

Her sharp intake indicated he’d been brusque.

“I’m sorry, if this is a bad time, I can call back.”

Now he had to know the reason for her call. “No, it’s fine. I’m standing guard at Ray McCullen’s wedding in case that arsonist strikes again.”

“That’s sort of the reason I called.”

He frowned, his gaze piercing the night as he pivoted to scan the pastures. “Do you have information that could help?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I had some questions about Joe McCullen’s autopsy.”

Roan went completely still. “What kind of questions?”

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing it over the phone. Can we meet?”

An image of her unruly, long wavy hair surfaced. Although she usually wore it in a tight bun, the moment he’d yanked that bun free, he’d unleashed some kind of sexual animal that she kept hidden from the world.

Seeing her was not a good idea.

“Please,” she said. “It’s important. And...you’re the only one I trust.”

Damn, did she have to put it that way?

“All right. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the morgue. But I’d prefer to meet you somewhere else.”

He could go to her place. But that would be too personal. Too tempting.

“I’ll be done soon. How about we meet at The Silver Bullet in an hour?”

She agreed and hung up. For the next hour, Roan watched the celebration wind down. The happy couple kissed and said goodbye as they rushed to the limo Ray had rented. They were headed to the airport to fly to Mexico for their honeymoon.

He left the security team Brett had hired to watch over the ranch, took a quick drive across the property, looking for any stray vehicle or a fire, but all seemed quiet.

By the time he reached The Silver Bullet, he was sweating just thinking about seeing Megan again. He spotted her in a booth to the side when he entered. Country music blared from the speakers, smoke clogged the room and footsteps pounded from the line dance on the dance floor.

Megan looked up at him, one hand clenching a wineglass, her eyes worried. He ordered a beer and joined her. She’d secured her hair in that bun again, she wore no makeup and her clothes were nondescript. Once again it struck him that she downplayed her looks. He wondered why.

She could wear a damn feed sack and she’d still be the prettiest girl he’d ever met. And he knew what she looked like with that hair down, her body naked, her lips trailing kisses down his chest.

“Megan,” he said as he slipped into the booth across from her.

“Thank you for coming.” She licked her lips, drawing his eyes to her mouth. He took a sip of beer to stall and wrangle his libido.

“You said it was important.” Please spit it out so I can go home and forget about you.

Not that he ever had. But he was trying.

“Roan, I may be jumping the gun, but I had to talk to someone about this.”

The worry in her voice sounded serious. He straightened. “What is it?”

She looked down in her glass. “When I performed Joe McCullen’s autopsy the first time, I...thought I saw something suspicious in his tox report.”

Roan’s heart jumped.

“With all that’s happened at Horseshoe Creek recently,” Megan continued, “and with that Lowman woman and her son, and those fires...it made me think of that report.”

“I don’t understand,” Roan said. “What was it that bothered you?”

She inhaled a deep breath, then glanced around the room warily, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation. His instincts roared to life. She’d said she didn’t feel comfortable talking on the phone.

“Megan, tell me,” he said.

“I don’t think Joe McCullen died of natural causes.” She leaned closer, her voice low. “I think he was murdered.”


Chapter Two (#ulink_a6eac3cb-e0eb-5415-8c3a-05834f147092)

Megan’s words reverberated in Roan’s ears. Joe McCullen was murdered.

“How?”

“Poison. Cyanide.”

“Are you sure?”

Megan winced. “Not exactly, but—”

“But what?” He leaned across the table, speaking in a hushed tone. “Why did you come to me if you don’t know?”

She fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it back in that bun. He wanted to unknot it and run his fingers through it.

But he had to focus.

“I know what I saw in that initial report. But Dr. Cumberland made me question my results and ran it again. That’s when it came back normal.”

“So you have one bad test and one normal one?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

She fidgeted with her little round glasses, pushing them up on her nose. “I talked to the lab tech and he’s meticulous with details. He didn’t think he mixed up the reports like Dr. Cumberland said.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Roan said.

“I know.” Megan took a sip of her wine. “But I’ve seen this guy’s work. He’s OCD. He checks things at least three times.”

Roan didn’t know how to respond.

If Megan was right, that meant Joe had been murdered.

But they couldn’t make accusations without something more concrete. That would only cause more trouble for the McCullens.

If she was right, though, then someone had gotten away with killing Joe—his father. And he couldn’t let that happen.

“Anyway, I talked to the lab tech,” Megan said. “I preserved a sample and he’s going to retest it.”

Roan gave a clipped nod. “When will you have the results?”

“Probably tomorrow. I asked him to keep it quiet.”

“Good.” His gaze met hers. “Don’t tell anyone else about this, Megan. You don’t want to create panic if there’s nothing to it.”

A wary look flashed in those dark brown eyes. “Of course I won’t say anything. But if it’s true, someone needs to find out who poisoned Joe McCullen.”

“And how they did it,” Roan muttered. “It would have been difficult with Dr. Cumberland monitoring his health.” And there was no way he could accuse the good doctor of foul play. Roan knew Cumberland personally. He was the most compassionate man Roan had ever met. He’d donated time to the res when they needed a Western doctor.

He’d even treated Roan’s mother. For God’s sake, he’d held her hand and comforted her before she passed.

But Joe could have had visitors. Someone could have slipped something to him when nobody was watching.

“What if Barbara or her son, Bobby, did it?” Megan said. “You know Barbara got tired of waiting on Joe to marry her. Maybe she decided to kill him and get what was owed her.”

Roan frowned. “True. But if he was sick anyway, why kill him? Why not wait until the disease got the best of him?”

* * *

MEGAN CONSIDERED ROAN’S STATEMENT. Why would someone go to the trouble to kill a man who was already dying?

“Megan?”

His gruff voice always turned her inside out. When she looked up at him, he was watching her with an intensity that sent a tingle through her.

“I don’t know.” Barbara and Bobby resented the fact that Joe kept them a secret. Part of her understood their animosity. “Maybe Barbara knew that Joe had included her in the will. But what if he’d decided to change it recently? Maybe he was going to cut them out for some reason.”

“And one or both of them decided to kill him before he could,” Roan finished.

She nodded. “That would make sense.”

Roan’s wide jaw snapped tight. “If that’s the case, I need proof. I doubt either one of the Lowmans are going to cop to murder.”

She doubted that, too. “What’s our next move?”

Roan’s gaze met hers. “We don’t have a next move, Megan. If you go around making accusations, you could get hurt.”

Megan drummed her fingers on the table. She noticed Roan watching and realized how desperately she needed a manicure—the chemicals she worked with at the morgue were hell on her nails and skin—so she curled her fingers into her palms.

Still the questions she’d had since she’d first suspected poison in Joe’s tox report nagged at her. She wasn’t some delicate princess type who ran from trouble. When she had questions, she sought answers. It was the nature of being a scientist and doctor. “But I can’t let this go, Roan.”

Roan laid one big hand on top of both of hers. “Listen to me. I’m the lawman. First things first. Get that report, then call me with the results. If you confirm poison, I’ll investigate.”

Memories of him intimately touching her flooded her as she stared at their fingers. She wanted to relive that night. At least one more time.

But Roan quickly pulled his hand away, his jaw set hard again, his high cheekbones accentuated by the way his hair was pulled back in a leather tie. The only time he’d ever let down his guard was the night his mother died.

He obviously regretted doing it then.

But at least he hadn’t thought she was crazy. If that report confirmed what she suspected, he’d investigate.

She’d have to be satisfied with that for now.

* * *

ROAN TRIED TO shake off the ridiculous need to fold Megan in his arms and ask her to go home with him. He could use the sweet release of a hot night in bed with her again.

But one look into that vulnerable face and he knew that would be a mistake. Megan was not a one night stand kind of girl.

Which made it even more awkward that he’d used her for comfort the night his mother died and never contacted her again.

She knew what she was getting into. She’s a big girl.

Only she wasn’t like the other women he knew. She was smart, curious, a problem solver.

And she had no idea how beautiful she was.

But her words disturbed him. She thought Joe was murdered. And she hadn’t just offered some harebrained reason. She had offered a believable motive.

One he would investigate. On his own.

He didn’t want her near him. She was too damn tempting.

Worse, asking questions could be dangerous.

He tossed some bills on the table to pay for the drink. “Like I said, call me when you get the results of that tox screen.”

He stood, tipped his Stetson and strode through the busy bar. Music rocked the establishment, laughter and chatter filling the air. Men and women came here to unwind and hook up.

But he ignored the interested females and strode outside. His mind was already ticking away what he needed to do.

He and Maddox were still trying to figure out who set those fires. Could the same person have murdered Joe?

And then there was Barbara and Bobby Lowman...

Megan’s comment about the will made him reach for his phone. He climbed in his SUV and punched Darren Bush’s number, but received the lawyer’s voice mail. “It’s Deputy Whitefeather,” he said. “Please call me as soon as possible.”

He might be jumping the gun, but he’d drive out to the Lowmans’ house tonight and take a look around.

* * *

MEGAN WATCHED ROAN leave with mixed emotions. She was relieved he’d taken her concerns seriously.

But disappointed that he didn’t hint at wanting a personal relationship.

She blinked back tears. Good grief. She wasn’t a crier. She’d learned long ago not to let rejection destroy her. Like her father said, she had brains and she’d use them to survive.

In fact, it was better she wasn’t gorgeous like her sister. The cops suspected Shelly was targeted by the man who’d killed her because of her looks. Even their mother had been model pretty.

But she’d never gotten over Shelly’s death and had eventually committed suicide as if Megan wasn’t enough to fill the void Shelly had left.

As if she was the daughter who should have died instead of Shelly.

Bile rose to her throat at the memories, and she pushed her wine aside, then headed to the door. She elbowed her way through the crowd, ignoring catcalls from drunk cowboys as she stepped outside.

One beefy man in a big black hat grabbed her arm. “What’s your hurry? Let your hair down and we could have a lot of fun.”

She glared at him with her best “get lost” look. “Sorry, mister. Not interested.”

His fingers tightened around her arm. “Hey, don’t I know you? You’re that medical examiner who sent my brother to jail.”

She arched a brow, struggling to recall the details. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t remember? You said my brother killed this drifter and he’s locked up now ’cause of you.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. His tone reeked of bitterness. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family,” she said. “But I was just doing my job.”

“Well, you were wrong, lady. My brother didn’t kill no one.”

Megan forced herself to remain calm. “I file a report based on scientific evidence I find in the autopsy. The rest is up to the law and a jury.” She yanked her arm away, then took a deep breath. “Now, good night.”

He muttered a profanity as she brushed him out of the way and walked to her car. Gravel crunched beneath her boots, and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the jerk wasn’t following.

Keys already in hand, she pressed the unlock button on the key fob and slid into the driver’s seat of her van. She liked driving something with room enough to carry her medical bag and a change of clothes when she worked all night.

The engine chugged to life, and she checked her rearview mirror. The man had followed her outside and was glaring at her as she disappeared.

Nerves knotted her stomach. He’d said she was wrong about his brother. Had she been wrong?

Everyone made mistakes. But she was careful about her reports.

Although sometimes her curiosity got the better of her—like now?

Was she looking for trouble regarding Joe McCullen’s death when there hadn’t been foul play?

* * *

ROAN PULLED INTO the driveway of Barbara’s house, noting that most of the lights were off in the neighborhood. Barbara’s house was dark, vacant now that she and her son were incarcerated.

He cut the lights, then glanced around the property, hoping not to alert anyone that he was nosing around. Maddox would probably be ticked off if he knew Roan was here, that he hadn’t told him about his conversation with Megan.

But there was no need in stirring up Maddox’s emotions over questions about his father’s death unless he had some concrete evidence that Joe had been murdered.

He grabbed his flashlight and walked around to the rear, then checked the back door. He picked the lock and slipped inside. The house smelled of mildew, stale cigarette smoke and beer.

He shined the light through the kitchen, expecting to see dirty dishes, but the sink was empty and, except for a few empty beer bottles, the counter was free of clutter.

Remembering that he was searching for poison, he opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. A milk carton, juice, soda, a head of wilted lettuce, carton of eggs, yogurt. He opened the milk and gagged at the sour smell.

But he saw nothing inside that looked like poison.

Next he checked the cabinets, searching below the sink, and found household cleaners, some of which were poisonous, but was it the poison that had allegedly killed Joe?

He quickly cataloged the contents of the cabinet, then searched the living room, the closet, bedrooms and bathrooms. More cleaner in the bathroom, but nothing suspicious per se.

Of course Barbara could easily have had time to dispose of the poison.

Although in light of the fact that no one had questioned Joe’s cause of death, she might not have bothered. Some people were cocky enough to think they’d never get caught.

Working on that theory, he checked the bathroom garbage cans, then the kitchen. Beer cans, an empty pizza box, other assorted trash.

Frustrated, he eased out the back door and checked the outside garbage can. Only one bag of garbage, which surprised him, but before he went through it, he noticed the storage shed behind the house.

Sensing he was on to something, he picked the lock on the shed. When he opened it, he shined his flashlight across the interior and noticed several bags of potting soil, planters and gardening tools.

A storage bin sat to the right, and he lifted the lid and illuminated it with the flashlight beam.

Fertilizer.

His pulse hammered as past cases of poisoning played in his head. Fertilizers contained cyanide.


Chapter Three (#ulink_9a4e7567-2474-52aa-bd71-ef7d37b33d8d)

Roan snapped pictures of the fertilizer bags and other assorted chemicals inside the shed, but he was careful not to touch anything. If they learned that Joe McCullen was murdered, he’d have to go by the book and gather evidence.

But the fact that Barbara had products containing cyanide definitely put her on his suspect list.

He had no idea how she got the poison into Joe, though. Had she laced food or a drink with it? That would be the most common or easiest way.

If so, that meant she had to have had access to him, had to have visited him.

Maddox might know. But Roan wasn’t ready to discuss the situation with him.

He noted a pair of gardening gloves, then a box of disposable latex gloves and took a picture of the box. A lot of people bought those disposable gloves for cleaning, but Barbara could have used them when preparing whatever concoction she’d used to hide the cyanide.

He was jumping to conclusions, he realized. Just because Barbara had motive didn’t mean she was the only one who wanted Joe dead.

Arlis Bennett at the Circle T was suspected of hiring someone to set the fires on behalf of himself and his cousin, Boyle Gates. Gates had been furious at Maddox for arresting him for cattle rustling.

But the timing was off. Gates hadn’t been caught until after Joe’s death.

Although, what if Joe had figured out what Gates was doing?

Gates could have poisoned Joe, hoping whatever Joe had on him would die with his death.

Knowing it was too late to question either of them tonight, he mentally filed his questions for the next day.

He locked the shed as he left, once again surveying the yard and property as he walked back to his vehicle. But as he drove away from the house, his mind turned from murder to Megan.

Seeing her tonight had resurrected memories of the one night they’d spent together.

How could the worst day of his life also be one of the best?

Losing his mother had been so painful he’d allowed himself to drown his sorrows in Megan’s sweet body. Her erotic touches had assuaged his anguish and helped him forget for a moment that the only person he’d ever loved, the only person who’d ever given a damn about him, was gone.

Forever.

Although, maybe he’d only perceived the night with Megan was so special because he’d been in pain...

That had to be it. If they slept together again, he’d probably be disappointed.

Perspiration rolled down his neck as he crossed through town, then veered down the drive to his cabin and parked. He climbed out, the wind rustling the trees, the sound of a coyote echoing from somewhere nearby.

Shoulders squared, he let himself inside the cabin, the cold empty room a reminder that he was alone.

Sometimes, he imagined walking in and seeing Megan in his kitchen or in his den. But most often he imagined her in his bedroom.

Waking up with Megan in his arms that night had been pure bliss. But when he’d looked at her sweet innocent face, the guilt had overwhelmed him.

Guilt for feeling pleasure when his mother had died. Then guilt for taking advantage of Megan.

Because he’d known that she wasn’t the type of woman to hook up on a whim. That she might perceive their night of sex as the beginning of something—maybe a long-term relationship.

And he couldn’t go there. Couldn’t care about anyone.

Losing them hurt too damn much.

Just like he wouldn’t allow himself to care about the McCullens. Sure, he’d find Joe’s murderer—if he was murdered—but then he’d step away.

And the McCullens would never know his secret.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Megan couldn’t shake her encounter from the night before with the man outside The Silver Bullet. Pistol Whip was a small town, but she worked for the county hospital and medical examiner’s office, which covered a much larger territory.

Her boss and the senior medical examiner Frank Mantle had overseen all her cases the first year, but now he pretty much left her alone. He was nearing retirement age, suffered from arthritis and wanted to spend more time with his wife, so Megan shouldered the majority of the autopsies.

She struggled to recall the case the man she’d run into was talking about, then searched through her files. The fifth file she pulled had to be it.

The murdered man’s name was Carlton Langer. He was twenty-five, just graduated from college and was traveling across country to sow his oats before he settled into a full-time job.

She rubbed her forehead as she recalled the details of the case. Carlton had been brutally stabbed three times in the chest. The knife had sliced his aorta and he’d bled out immediately.

Judging from the angle of the blade and the fact that the knife was missing, she’d had to rule it a homicide. She turned to her computer and pulled up the news reports that had followed the stabbing and noted that a man named Tad Hummings had been arrested the day after the brutal assault.

According to the officer who arrested him, Hummings had been high on drugs and the murder weapon had been found in his house with his fingerprints on it. Later, when he’d come down off the drugs, he didn’t remember anything.

She rubbed her temple. It sounded as if he’d blacked out. She read the drug tox screen. Cocaine.

His brother Dale had hired a lawyer who’d argued that the drugs had caused Hummings’s erratic, violent behavior.

But a man was still dead, and Tad Hummings was sent to prison.

She closed the file. Dale Hummings blamed her, but she hadn’t made a mistake. His brother had. There was no question about Langer’s cause of death, either.

Joe McCullen was a different story. She picked up the phone to call Howard and see if he’d finished that tox screen.

* * *

ROAN DROVE TOWARD the prison where Barbara had been incarcerated. He might be jumping the gun, but he’d always suspected she’d lied about setting the fires on Horseshoe Creek.

A cigarette butt had been found in the ashes of the barn fire, the same brand she smoked.

His phone buzzed. Maddox. “Deputy Whitefeather.”

“I got a lead on Romley. He was spotted in Cheyenne. I’m on my way to check it out. You’re in charge.”

Stan Romley worked for Gates and Arlis Bennett and had taken a job at Horseshoe Creek to spy on the McCullens.

“I’ve got it covered,” Roan said, although he was thirty miles from town. But if anything came up, he’d rush back.

“Call me if you need backup,” Roan said.

Maddox agreed and hung up. Roan pulled up to the guard’s station and identified himself. The guard waved him through and he parked. The wind howled as he waited outside to enter, then it took him another ten minutes to clear security.

Barbara had been placed in a minimum-security prison to serve out her year sentence for aggravated assault against the sheriff and against Scarlet Lovett. She’d cut the brake lines on the woman’s car, and Scarlet had nearly been killed when she crashed into the side of the social services building where she worked.

Barbara had pled out to a lesser sentence and had to sign an agreement that she wouldn’t file for an appeal in return.

He took a seat at the visitor’s station, and a guard escorted Barbara to a chair facing him through a Plexiglas partition. A seed of sympathy for her sprouted inside him—he knew the story. She and Joe McCullen had had an affair when Maddox and his brothers were children, and she’d gotten pregnant with Bobby.

When Joe’s wife, Grace, had died in a car accident, Barbara had no doubt expected Joe to marry her. But that hadn’t happened. Her bitterness had festered. When Joe died, she’d hoped her son would inherit his share of Horseshoe Creek.

Joe had included him in the will, but neither Barbara nor Bobby were satisfied.

The woman looked pale and angry, her dyed blond hair now mixed with muddy brown. For a moment, she studied him, obviously wondering what his agenda was.

She’d been volatile when she was arrested. Prison had drained the fight from her.

He picked up the phone and waited until she did the same.

“Ms. Lowman,” he began. “Thank you for seeing me.”

She shrugged, her eyes fixed on him. “Didn’t realize I had a choice.”

No, she was at the mercy of the justice system now. “How are you?”

She frowned. “What? Like you care?”

She was right. He didn’t really care. She’d tried to kill an innocent woman. Scarlet was one of the nicest people he’d ever met.

“Why are you really here, Deputy?” Barbara asked.

Roan narrowed his eyes. “I thought you might be ready to tell the truth about the fires at Horseshoe Creek. I could speak to the judge on your behalf and arrange an early parole if you confess.”

Barbara’s sarcastic laugh echoed over the line. “Right. I confess to another crime and you’ll get me out of here earlier? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re a fool at all,” Roan said. “I think you resented Joe for not marrying you, especially after you waited for him all these years.”

“Who said I waited for him?”

“You never married.” He leaned closer to the Plexiglass. “Did you even date anyone else, Barbara? Or did you sit at home hoping he’d call?” He lowered his voice, taunting her. “Did you keep thinking that next month or next year he’d finally admit that he loved you and make you his wife?”

Barbara’s nostrils flared. “How dare you.”

“I understand your anger,” Roan continued. “You gave Joe a son just like Grace did, but her sons got to live on the big ranch. They got to have Joe’s name and grow up in the house with him. They got a real father. Yet McCullen kept you and Bobby on the side. Made you live in the shadows and take whatever little pieces he had left over from his real family.” He paused for effect. “He was ashamed of the two of you.”

She lurched up, body shaking with fury. “You bastard. Joe loved me and Bobby.”

“If he’d loved you, he would have introduced you to his sons. He would have married you.” Roan remained seated, his expression calm, his eyes scrutinizing her. “But he didn’t, and every day, every month, every year that went by, your bitterness grew. Then...what happened? Maybe you gave him an ultimatum, that you’d expose him to Maddox and Brett and Ray, if he didn’t marry you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Barbara said, although the guilt that flashed in her eyes indicated he’d hit the nail on the head.

He raised a brow. “But he still refused. That must have torn you up inside.”

Barbara sank into the chair again and looked down at the floor, her face wrenched in pain. “He felt guilty about his wife’s death. That’s why he never married me. Even from the grave she kept her tentacles embedded in him.”

“Then you finally snapped, didn’t you, Barbara. You decided that if he wouldn’t marry you, you’d get rid of him. At least then you and your son could get what he owed you.”

“He did owe us,” Barbara snapped. “We loved him and kept his secret to protect him, and he still let us down.”

“That was the final straw, wasn’t it?” Roan said. “He refused to marry you. Maybe he even said he’d never marry you.” He arched a brow. “Maybe he threatened to cut you out of the will.”

Her chin lifted and tears glittered in her eyes.

“So you decided to get rid of him. He was sick already so you poisoned him. Nice and slow, just a little at a time.”

“What?” Barbara’s jaw went slack. “Poisoned Joe?”

“Yes. Did you take him food or a drink when you visited him? Did you slowly poison him and watch him die?”

Barbara’s face blanched. “What are you saying? That Joe was murdered?”

“You tell me, Ms. Lowman. Did you kill Joe McCullen?”

* * *

MEGAN CLOSED THE door to her office as she waited on the lab to answer. Finally Howard picked up. “Howard, it’s Megan.”

“I was just getting ready to call you,” Howard said.

“Did you finish the tests?”

“Yes. Meet me at the coffee shop across from the hospital.”

“I’m on my way.” Megan snatched her purse, hurried from her office and locked the door behind her. She caught the elevator from the basement floor where the morgue was housed, then wove through the corridors of the hospital past the gift shop and outside. She had to cross the street to the corner café.

By the time she arrived, Howard was ordering coffee. She ordered a latte and then they claimed a booth in the back corner.

“What did you find?” she asked, unable to stand the wait.

Howard glanced around the coffee shop, then spoke in a hushed tone. “You were right, Megan. There were definitely traces of cyanide in McCullen’s system.”

Megan’s pulse pounded. That meant Joe was murdered.

“What are you going to do with this information?” Howard asked.

Megan blew the steam rolling off her coffee. “I have to go to the police.” In fact, she already had.

“Joe was the sheriff’s father, right?”

“Yes.” And she had no idea how he would react.

“Didn’t the sheriff live with his father?” Howard asked.

Megan frowned. “Yes.”

“How did someone poison his old man without him knowing it?”

“I have no idea, but I know someone who’ll find out.” She pulled her phone from her purse and punched Roan’s number. His phone rolled to voice mail, and she left a message for him to call her.

“What about Dr. Cumberland?” Howard asked.

“He was close to Joe, but with Joe’s illness, I guess he never thought to look for another cause.”

“You’ll tell him?” Howard asked.

“Of course.” She didn’t look forward to it, either, not after the way he’d reacted when she’d questioned the tox screen.

They finished their coffee and Howard had to rush back to the lab. She lingered, hoping Roan would return her call, but finally decided to go back to work. When she stepped outside, a chilly wind rippled through the air. The sky was dark with clouds, although it hadn’t rained in days.

She shivered, and had an eerie feeling as if someone was watching her. Remembering her encounter with Hummings’s brother the night before, she checked around her as she walked to the crosswalk, but she didn’t spot the man anywhere.

She stepped up to the street where a group had gathered waiting on the traffic signal. Her phone rang just as the light turned. She pressed Answer and fell into step with the crowd, but suddenly a gunshot blasted the air. The crowd screamed and began to run, and she felt someone shove her from behind, then lost her balance.

She landed on her hands and knees, and her phone went flying across the street.

She looked up and screamed as an oncoming car screeched toward her.


Chapter Four (#ulink_6c57cc08-5b8e-51ac-bc8b-4dbca0b13883)

Roan studied Barbara for a reaction. She seemed shocked at his accusation. “Did you poison Joe McCullen, Barbara?”

Barbara’s handcuffs jangled as she waved her hands dramatically in the air. “Of course not. I can’t believe you’d ask me such a thing. I loved that man more than life itself.”

“You loved him, but we both know you resented the fact that he never married you.”

Barbara looked down at the jagged ends of her nails. “Did someone really poison him?”

“There were traces of cyanide in his system.”

She jerked her gaze up, eyes flaring with surprise. Or guilt? “Cyanide?”

“Yes. Fertilizer has cyanide in it, Barbara. And you have plenty of that at your house. You use it in your gardening.”

Another flicker of unease in her eyes. Then she seemed to pull herself together. “Gardening was a hobby of mine. But a lot of people garden. That’s not a crime.”

“No, but slipping cyanide into food or a drink that someone ingests is.”

“I didn’t slip cyanide into anything.”

Roan worked his mouth from side to side. “Then maybe your son did.”

Anger slashed her tired-looking features. “My son did no such thing.”

Roan arched a brow. “Are you sure about that, Barbara? He resented Joe more than you did. He hated all of the McCullens. Maybe he even went to see Joe and Joe told him not to come back, that he didn’t want his real sons to know about him.” He paused. “Maybe he told Bobby that he’d never be a McCullen. That if he got any of the land, he’d have to work underneath Maddox like he was some kind of servant.”

Barbara shot up. “Stop it. Joe wouldn’t have talked to Bobby like that. He loved our son.”

“But not like he did Maddox or Brett or Ray,” Roan pressed.

Rage darkened Barbara’s eyes. “Listen to me, Deputy. Bobby and I have suffered enough. We have both been locked up because of that family, but we did not kill Joe. Now leave us alone.”

She whirled around and gestured toward the guard. “Take me back to my cell, please.”

The guard glanced at Roan, and he shrugged and gestured okay. But before Barbara stepped through the door, he cleared his throat. “Know this, Barbara. If you or Bobby did kill Joe, I’ll find out. And any chance of you getting free will disappear.”

She shot him a venomous look, then shuffled out the door with the guard.

Roan contemplated her reaction.

Had she been so desperate to protect her son and see him get what was owed to him that she killed the man she loved?

* * *

MEGAN’S HEART HAMMERED as tires squealed and the car roared toward her. Terrified for her life, she rolled sideways toward the sidewalk seconds before the car screeched to a stop.

If she hadn’t been so fast, the car would have hit her.

Her life flashed in front of her. Playing with her sister when she was little. Losing her. Losing her mother... Her father looking at her like she was nothing.

Being so lonely sometimes she thought she’d die...

Then that night with Roan...his handsome face. Him bending over her, making love to her.

She wanted to live, to be with him again.

Shouts and screams echoed around her, then a man raced to her and helped her up. “Are you all right, miss?”

The driver of the car jumped out, the woman’s face ashen as she stumbled toward Megan. “Oh, God, honey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Megan said. She glanced around the street and saw several people watching while others had dispersed in fear. “Someone fired a gun.”

“I heard it,” the man who’d helped her up said. “But I didn’t see where it came from.”

“I think it was a car backfiring,” a gray-haired man said.

“No, no, it was definitely a gun,” another woman said.

Megan didn’t know what to think. But...she’d also thought she’d felt someone push her before she fell.

You’re just being paranoid.

Although she had expressed suspicions about Joe McCullen’s death, the only people who knew that were Howard and Roan. And they were on her side.

Of course Tad Hummings’s brother had cornered her in the bar—would he try to kill her because she’d helped send his brother to prison?

“Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?” the driver of the car asked.

“I’m sure.” All she wanted to do was call Roan.

Then hide in the morgue where she was safe.

Except she needed to talk to Dr. Cumberland. And he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

* * *

ROAN CONSIDERED QUESTIONING Bobby but decided he needed concrete proof before he did. Something that would force Bobby to confess.

He climbed in his SUV to leave the prison and phoned Megan as he drove onto the highway. Her phone rang three times before she answered. When she did, she sounded breathless.

“Megan, are you all right?”

“No. I mean, yes,” she said. “I’m on the way back to the morgue.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I went to meet Howard to discuss the tox results, but on the way back to the hospital a gunshot sounded. The crowd panicked and started running, and I fell in the street.”

Roan went very still. “You fell?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know. I thought for a minute I was pushed, but I could have imagined it. Everyone was running to get away.”

“Who fired the gun?”

‘I have no idea,” she said. “The street was crowded and it happened so fast. One man said he thought it was a car backfiring, but I don’t think so.”

“Did you see anyone suspicious?”

“No. But like I said, it happened really fast and a car was coming so I had to roll out of the way.”

He didn’t like this one damn bit. First, she’d come to him questioning Joe McCullen’s death. Now a gun had gone off in the street and she’d fallen and nearly been hit by a car.

Too coincidental.

Roan clenched the phone with clammy hands. “Who else did you tell about the tox report?”

Tension filled the air. “Just you and Howard, the lab tech and Dr. Cumberland. But I haven’t seen him since I met with Howard earlier.”

“What were the results?”

“There was definitely cyanide in Joe’s system, Roan. Probably administered in small doses over a long period of time so as not to draw suspicion.”

Roan veered onto the road leading toward the McCullens’ ranch, Horseshoe Creek. He needed to find out who’d visited Joe on a regular basis.

“I know this will upset Dr. Cumberland,” Megan said. “He and the McCullens are good friends.”

“So how did he miss the fact that his patient was poisoned?”

“Like I said, it was probably administered in slow doses. Since Joe was already ill, Dr. Cumberland must have assumed his weakening condition was due to the disease.”

Roan’s mind raced. Barbara was his prime suspect, but her shock had seemed real. “But one question is still bothering me—why kill a dying man?”

“Maybe Barbara and Bobby knew about the will, but thought Joe was going to change it and take them out. She could have wanted him dead before he could make the change.”

“That’s possible. I put a call in to Joe’s lawyer to find out.”

His phone beeped. Maddox. “Listen, Megan, Maddox is calling. Let me talk to him.”

“Are you going to tell him his father was murdered?”

Roan hesitated. That was not a conversation he was eager to have.

“Not yet. I want some proof of a viable suspect before I go to him.”

“I don’t blame you. The McCullens have been through a lot. But they will want to know.”

He was well aware of that. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him when the time is right.” He hesitated, then remembered her close call on the street. “Be careful, Megan. And don’t talk to anyone but Dr. Cumberland about this.”

She agreed, and he hit Connect to respond to Maddox. “It’s Roan.”

“I think I’ve tracked Romley down. I’m staking out a motel where he was last spotted.”

“Do you need backup?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know if I do. Is anything going on there?”

Roan swallowed hard. He hated to lie, but...he wasn’t ready to divulge the truth. “No. I’ll ride out and check on the ranch soon.”

“Thanks. That security detail Brett hired should have it covered. But I’m worried about Mama Mary and Rose staying at the house while I’m gone. I tried to get them to stay with a friend, but they’re both as stubborn as they come. Mama Mary said no one would run her off from her home, and Rose insisted on staying with her.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll check on them.” In fact, Mama Mary was the one person who’d been by Joe’s bedside when he was ill. She’d lived with the family since before the boys’ mother passed and was the cook, housekeeper and surrogate mother. According to Maddox, she was as much a part of the family as anyone.

She would know exactly who’d visited Joe. And if he had other enemies, she could provide them with a list of names.

* * *

MEGAN COULDN’T SHAKE the uneasy feeling that someone had meant to harm her in the street.

The man from the bar, Tad Hummings’s brother?

She should report her altercation with him to the police. To Roan.

But...she had no real proof that he’d pushed her today. And he was already angry with her over the injustice he’d perceived she’d done to his family. If she accused him of pushing her in front of a car or firing a weapon at her, he would be furious.

She didn’t want to deal with that kind of rage. Or to falsely accuse anyone of anything.

She finished filing the results on Morty Burns and sent them to the sheriff in Laredo. This was his case, not one for Roan or Sheriff McCullen. But she was curious about the man so she entered his name in her database and ran a background check.

Information filled the screen.

Morty Burns, age fifty-nine, five-ten, a hundred and ninety pounds, no preexisting conditions.

He was married to a woman named Edith Bennett.

Bennett—why did that name sound familiar?

A knock sounded at her office door, but before she could respond, Dr. Cumberland stormed in.

“What the hell are you doing, Megan?” He slashed his hand through the air. “I just found out you ran more labs on Joe McCullen. I thought we settled that issue.”

Megan pivoted, forcing a calm to her voice.

She hadn’t let her father intimidate her and she wouldn’t let this man.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but the fact that there were two different results bugged me. So I decided to run it one more time.”

Dr. Cumberland rammed his hands through his hair, spiking the white strands in disarray. “I can’t believe you’d go behind my back—”

“This is not about you,” Megan said. “It’s about your good friend Joe. If someone did hurt him, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Of course,” he stuttered.

“I still don’t understand about the false negative.”

Dr. Cumberland looked away. “Sometimes our samples get contaminated and it throws off the results.”

That had happened before. “I know you cared about him,” Megan said softly. “And so did his sons. I just want the truth.”

He paused in his pacing and turned to look at her, his expression pained. “What are you saying, Megan? That someone killed my best and oldest friend? That it happened while he was under my care?”


Chapter Five (#ulink_1c3131a1-9d7c-57b1-8104-e150aaf5cef2)

Dr. Cumberland looked completely distraught.

Megan stepped over to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I know this is upsetting.”

The man’s face contorted with emotions. “How could I have missed that? I saw him all the time...”

“It happened so slowly, there was no reason for you to look for it, not with Joe already dying.”

“This makes no sense,” he said. “Why would anyone kill Joe? He didn’t have long to live.”

“That’s the big question,” Megan said. “And one I’m sure his sons will want the answer to.”

Dr. Cumberland looked stricken, and then he slumped into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Good God, Joe...what have I done?”

The guilt in the man’s voice tugged at Megan’s heartstrings. “You didn’t do anything. Joe knew you were his friend. If he’d thought someone was poisoning him, he would have told you.”

“But I was his primary physician. I should have realized, should have seen something.”

“Like I said, whoever poisoned him did it in small doses over a long period of time.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Can you think of anyone who had a grudge against Joe?”

“Just Barbara. And maybe Arlis Bennett, but he’s in jail.” He pushed himself up, but staggered slightly. His pallor was gray, his breathing unsteady.

Megan reached out to steady him. “Are you okay? You aren’t having chest pains, are you?”

He shook his head no, then straightened and swiped at the perspiration beading on his forehead. “I have to go.”

“Wait.” She caught his arm. “Maybe you need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine, I just need some air.” He shrugged off her hand and hurried toward the door before she could stop him.

* * *

ROAN’S GUT CHURNED with the news of Joe McCullen’s murder.

For a fraction of a second, he considered the possibility that this could have been a mercy killing. Mama Mary supposedly loved the McCullens like family—she’d taken care of Joe during his illness.

What if she’d hated seeing him suffer and decided to speed death along?

Although slowly poisoning someone was not merciful. If Mama Mary or someone else, say Dr. Cumberland, had wanted to keep Joe from suffering, he or she would have found a faster way.

As he drove down the long winding drive to the main farmhouse at Horseshoe Creek, he scanned the property. It was an impressive spread. Now it belonged to Joe’s three sons.

Horses galloped across the fields while cattle grazed in the pastures. Brett had brought more horses in to train and planned to offer riding lessons and was rebuilding the barns that burned down. He’d taken his wife, Willow, and his son away for a couple of weeks in hopes Maddox would track down the culprit sabotaging the McCullens.

Hopefully Maddox would arrest Romley and the trouble would end.

But the fact that Joe had been murdered changed everything. Was Gates responsible? Or...Barbara or Bobby?

Sunshine slanted across the graveled drive and farmhouse as he parked. The ground was dry from lack of rain, although winds stirred dust and scattered leaves and twigs across the yard. Hopefully spring would come soon with warmer weather, new growth and the ranch could get back on track.

But he wouldn’t be a part of it. He didn’t belong.

Still, he had to get justice for his father.

The sound of cattle echoed above the low whine of the wind, and he spotted a cowboy at the top of the hill herding the cows toward the pasture to the east.

A gray cloud moved across the sky shrouding the sun as he strode up to the front porch.

He knocked, noting that the repairs on the house were complete.

He knocked again, then heard shuffling inside. “Hang on to your britches, I’m coming.”

Roan shifted and scanned the perimeter of the property again, searching for anyone lurking around, but nothing suspicious stood out. A second later, Mama Mary lumbered to the door and opened it.

The scent of cinnamon wafted toward Roan, making his mouth water.

The short, chubby lady wiped her hands on her apron as she invited him in. She’d wound a bandana around her chin-length brown curls and flour dusted her blouse and apron. Her brown eyes were so warm and loving that Roan couldn’t help but envy the McCullens. Although alarm tinged them at the sight of him. “Deputy Whitefeather, Is something wrong? Did you hear from Maddox?”

“Maddox is fine,” Roan assured her. “I spoke to him earlier today. He has a lead on Stan Romley.”

Relief softened her face. “Thank goodness. Maybe they’ll lock him up, and my boys can get back to work here on the ranch where they belong.”

Her boys. She said it with such affection that if he’d ever considered the possibility of her doing something to hurt the family, that thought vanished like dust in the wind.

“May I come in? I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Something is wrong. Something you don’t want to say.”

Roan jammed his hands in his pockets. She was damned intuitive. “I’m just trying to help Maddox identify the arsonist.”

She nodded, although she scrutinized his face as if she didn’t quite believe him. Still, she waved him in. “You want some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee would be good,” he said. Maybe it would put them both at ease if he at least acted like this was informal, not a hunting expedition. Although, if she knew her boss and family friend had been murdered, he had a feeling she would want to help.

She gestured toward the den where a fire crackled in the fireplace, and she disappeared into the kitchen while he surveyed the room. A family picture of Joe and his three sons hung on one wall—the boys were teenagers then. A bookshelf held other pictures, a couple of Joe and the woman who must have been his wife, Grace. A third one showed Grace holding a baby in her arms with two toddlers beside her—Ray had to be the baby, Maddox and Brett the toddlers.

How would she have reacted if she’d known that Joe had another son at that time? Roan was probably just a few months older than Maddox.

His hand stroked his wallet where he kept a picture of his mother. There had been no father in the picture because she’d chosen not to tell Joe about him. What would Joe have done if he’d known? Would he have offered to marry Roan’s mother?

Would he have grown up a McCullen and lived on a ranch like this?

A wave of disappointment hit him, but he tamped it back. No use wondering. It hadn’t happened.

Footsteps sounded, and Mama Mary waddled in carrying a tray with a coffee craft, two mugs and a plate of cinnamon rolls. She set them on the coffee table, handed him a plate with a cinnamon roll on it, then served them both a mug and offered cream and sugar.

“Black is fine,” he said as he cradled the warm mug in his hand. Even the coffee cups had an M on them for McCullen, another reminder that if his mother had married Joe, that would have been his last name, too.

Mama Mary studied him with a frown. “All right, what’s really going on, Deputy? Maddox is after Romley and we know that he worked for Boyle Gates, the man Maddox put away for cattle rustling. I’m aware you all looked into his cousin Bennett. Do you have new information?”

He sipped his coffee, choosing his words carefully. “We’re still hoping that Romley will give us a confession regarding the fires.”

“So why are you here?”

Roan nodded. “The last few months Joe was sick, Dr. Cumberland came often to check on him?”

She nodded, then stirred sugar into her coffee. “Almost every day. He and Joe went way back. He even delivered Joe’s boys.”

Except for him. And Bobby. But they obviously didn’t count. “Joe and Boyle Gates had trouble?”

Mama Mary sighed. “Well, I guess you could say that. Boyle tried to get Joe to sell some of his land to him. He wasn’t happy at all when Joe refused.”

“Did Gates visit Joe while he was sick?”

Mama Mary nodded. “A couple of times. I couldn’t believe he kept persisting. He must have thought that Joe was weak and would give in, but Joe was adamant that his ranch belonged to the McCullens and didn’t intend to let any of it go.”

Gates would have had to have administered the poison more than twice for it to show up in the tox screen. Maybe he hired someone to sneak it into Joe’s food or drink?

“How about other visitors?”

“Well, a few of the hands dropped by. The foreman and Joe were close. He stopped in at least once a week.”

“You said they were close? Did he have any trouble with Joe?”

“No, Joe was always good to him. They were more like brothers than employee-employer.” She made a clicking sound with her teeth. “Why are you asking about Mr. Joe’s visitors?”

“I’m trying to get the full picture of anyone involved with the ranch or Joe. It’s possible Gates paid someone other than Romley to sabotage the ranch.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked away. “Mr. Brett already checked out the hands. Romley turned out to be dirty, and Maddox found out he was working with another hand named Hardwick. They were both on Gates’s payroll.”

“What about visitors outside the ranch? Other than Dr. Cumberland, who came to see Joe while he was sick?”

She set her coffee on the tray and rubbed at her knee as if it hurt. “Barbara stopped by a few times, always when Maddox wasn’t around. Once I heard her up there crying over him. I tried to stay out of the way when she was here. She didn’t much care for me.”

“She was bitter,” Roan said. “Did she bring Joe any gifts or food when she visited?”

Mama Mary’s face crinkled as she scrunched her nose in thought. “Sometimes she brought him cookies. Said they were his favorites, that she made them for him the first time they met.”

“Did Joe eat them?”

“One or two here and there. To tell you the truth, he wasn’t into sweets that much. He was a meat and potato man.”

Still, she could have poisoned the cookies.

“What about Bobby? Did he visit Joe?”

She scoffed. “That boy was like vinegar, sour and bitter as they get. He came some, but I stayed out of his way. He upset Mr. Joe. Sometimes I could hear them shouting all the way in the kitchen.” She made a sound of disapproval. “When Joe took sick, you’d have thought Bobby would have softened and been nicer. But one night I heard him asking Joe when he was going to tell the other boys about him. He was always demanding money, too.”

Roan’s pulse jumped. “What about Joe’s will? Did Bobby know he was included?”

“Joe hinted that he’d included him, but more than once he told Bobby if he wanted any part of the McCullen land, he had to get help.”

Roan considered their argument. “Did Joe ever talk about changing his will?”

Mama Mary glanced down at her fingers where she was knotting the apron in her lap. “He did. I told him once he should take that boy out. He was ungrateful and a mean drunk, and he didn’t deserve what Joe had worked so hard for.”

“Did Joe talk to the lawyer about it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Mama Mary said with a sigh.

There was one way to find out. Roan had to talk to Joe’s lawyer Darren Bush.

* * *

MEGAN SPENT THE rest of the afternoon working on the autopsy of a car crash victim.

By late afternoon, she was so concerned about the doctor that she phoned him to make certain he didn’t need medical attention, but his voice mail kicked in. Her phone buzzed a second later.

Thinking it was him, she quickly snatched up the phone.

“Dr. Lail, this is Deputy North in Laredo. I got the results for that autopsy on Morty Burns.”

“Yes.”

“Did you find any forensics?”

“I’m afraid not,” Megan answered. “But the bullet that killed him was from a .45.”

“Hmm.”

“Something bothering you about the report?” she asked.

“Not the report per se. But I talked to Sheriff McCullen from Pistol Whip. Apparently Morty Burns was married to a woman named Edith Bennett.”

“Yes, I saw that,” Megan said.

Deputy North grunted. “Well, her brother is Arlis Bennett, a man the sheriff suspects is working with Boyle Gates.”

There was the name Bennett again. “Has Burns’s wife been notified of his death?” Megan asked.

“Not yet,” the deputy said. “I phoned and there was no answer at her place. She lives near Pistol Whip, not Laredo.”

Megan drummed her fingers on the desk. “I can go out and talk to her.”

“We really should have an officer present. This is a murder investigation now.”

“All right, I’ll get Deputy Whitefeather to accompany me.”

“Good. Sheriff McCullen thinks Burns’s murder may be related to the trouble at his ranch. That he might have been paid to set the ranch fires and that he might have been killed to cover up what he did.” He paused. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d found some DNA to tie his death to Gates or Bennett.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you more.”

He thanked her and hung up, and Megan stewed over the information.

It hadn’t occurred to her that a murder victim who’d been on her table might be connected to the McCullens.

She texted Roan to relay the deputy’s statement and explained that she’d meet him at the woman’s home to make the death notification—and question the woman in case she knew who’d taken her husband’s life. There was always the possibility that this murder was not related to the McCullens, that it was a domestic dispute gone bad or that Burns had gotten himself in some kind of trouble. Maybe he owed someone money...

Her phone beeped indicating a response to her text, and she read Roan’s message. At Horseshoe Creek now. Will meet you at the Burns farm. Wait for me.

She texted back OK, then grabbed her purse and rushed down the hallway.

Outside, the sun was setting, storm clouds rolling in, the wind picking up. The parking lot at the hospital was still full, though; the afternoon-evening shift hadn’t arrived, and an ambulance was rolling up.

She hit the key fob to unlock her car, jumped in and headed toward the address for the Burnses’ farm.

Traffic was thin as she drove through town, the diner starting to fill up with the early supper crowd. She made the turn to the highway leading out of Pistol Whip, and ten minutes later found the farm, a run-down-looking piece of property that had seen better days.

Overgrown weeds choked what had once been a big garden area, the fences were broken and rotting and the house needed paint badly. Her car rumbled over the ruts in the dirt drive, dust spewing in a smoky cloud behind her.

She scanned the property for life, for workers, but saw no one. Just a deserted tractor and pickup truck in front of the weathered house. She parked and glanced around, suddenly nervous.

She didn’t know anything about this woman, except that her husband had been murdered.

Suddenly the door on the side inched open and a cat darted out. Megan’s stomach knotted when she noticed blood on the cat’s fur and paws.

Fear momentarily immobilized her, but her instinct as a doctor kicked in, and she threw the door open and climbed from her car. She scanned the area for someone suspicious but saw no one. The cat ran into the barn behind the house.

She eased to the porch, one hand on the mace in her purse, her phone at her fingertips in case she needed to call for help. Wind beat at the house, banging a shutter that had come loose against the weathered wood.

She crept up the rickety steps, the squeaking sound of rotting boards adding to her frayed nerves. By the time she reached the front door, perspiration trickled down the back of her neck. Senses honed, she paused to listen for sounds inside.

The wind whistled through the eaves. Water dripped from a faucet or tub somewhere in the house.

The smell of something acrid swirled in the air as she poked her head inside. The living room with its faded and tattered furniture was empty. She took a deep breath and inched inside the door.

A sick feeling swept over her when she spotted the woman lying in the doorway from the kitchen to the den.

She lay in a pool of blood, one arm outstretched as if she was reaching for help, her eyes wide-open and filled with the shock of death.


Chapter Six (#ulink_27110c71-eff5-59f3-844f-d6a229a3946a)

Roan polished off the cinnamon roll and thanked Mama Mary. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Mama Mary,” Roan said. “Do you know a man named Morty Burns?”

“Can’t say as I do,” she said with a puzzled look. “Should I?”

Roan shrugged. “How about a woman named Edith Bennett? She was married to Burns.”

Mama Mary frowned. “Bennett? Why, yes, Edith used to be good friends with Grace. Although her brother is Arlis Bennett? And she did used to visit Joe from time to time. Why?”

“That text was the ME’s office. Edith’s husband was found shot to death. I wondered if he worked for Bennett.”

She fluttered a pudgy hand to her cheek. “Well...I don’t know. I can’t imagine Edith and her husband doing something illegal. You think someone killed him because he was sabotaging Horseshoe Creek?”

“At this point, I’m considering all angles.” He folded his hands. “Who else visited Joe?”

Mama Mary wiped her hands on her apron again. “Hmm, well there was another rancher named Elmore Clark. He owed Joe ’cause he got in trouble with his mortgage and Joe bought some of his land to help him out.”

“So he had no reason to hurt Joe?”

Mama Mary shook her head no. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Roan would check out the man. Maybe he hadn’t liked the terms of the sale?

“Did Joe tell you how he’d structured things in his will?”

Mama Mary brushed at the specks of flour on her apron. “Not the specifics. He just said everyone in the family would be taken care of.” She made a low sound in her throat. “I urged him to talk to the boys about Barbara and Bobby, but he had so much guilt over the affair he’d had. And frankly I think he was too weak to face the hurt he’d see on their faces.”

“So you knew about Barbara when he had the affair?”

She blinked and looked away. “I’m not going to gossip about this family. Joe made mistakes, but he was a good man.”

“I’m not judging him,” Roan said, tempted to confide in her that the man had been murdered. She obviously loved Joe and would want the truth.

Although she was protective of the family and probably wouldn’t welcome him into it any more than Maddox or Brett or Ray. “Neither am I, Mama Mary. I’m simply trying to understand the situation so we can catch whoever is sabotaging Horseshoe Creek.”

She relaxed a little. “Barbara and Bobby and Boyle Gates are the only three I can think of.”

Maybe he should have a chat with Boyle Gates. His phone buzzed and he checked the number. Megan.

“Thanks, Mama Mary. If you think of anyone else who visited or anything else that can help, call me.”

She pushed her bulk to her feet with a heaving sound, then caught his arm as he started to stand. “Deputy Whitefeather, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Roan met her gaze. Again he was tempted to confide the truth about the patriarch of the family’s death. But Maddox and Brett and Ray deserved to know first. So he shook his head, punched Connect on the phone and headed out the kitchen door.

“Deputy Whitefeather.”

“Roan, it’s Megan... You should get out here.”

His pulse hammered. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“At the Burns farm...” Her voice cracked. “Edith Burns is dead.”

* * *

MEGAN TOOK DEEP breaths as she stared at the pool of blood on the floor surrounding the woman’s body.

She yanked gloves from her purse and tiptoed inside, listening for sounds that an intruder was still there. The linoleum floor squeaked as she crossed the den to the doorway of the kitchen. She clenched the phone in one hand as she stooped down to check the woman’s pulse. Not that she had any doubt that she was dead. The odors and pallor confirmed her suspicions.

But it was routine and she needed to determine time and cause of death.

“Megan, you’re sure?”

“Yes.” Dried blood soaked the lady’s yellow housedress. “It appears that she bled out from a gunshot wound to the chest just like her husband.”

“I’m on my way,” Roan said. “Wait till I get there to go inside.”

“I’m already inside,” Megan said. “I saw blood from the doorway and had to see if she was alive.”

“Dammit, Megan, what if the killer is still there?”

“He’s long gone, Roan. Judging from rigor and body decomp, she’s been dead several hours.”

“You’re alone?”

She twisted to listen for sounds again, but barring the wind battering the wood frame and windowpanes, everything was quiet. “Yes. I’ll call a crime team to start processing the house.”

“Do you see a bullet casing or weapon anywhere around?”

Megan lifted the woman slightly to search for an exit wound, but didn’t see one. “The bullet must still be lodged inside her. I don’t see a weapon anywhere.”

She did a quick visual sweep of the kitchen, at least what she could see of it. A bowl of fruit sat on an oak table, fruit flies swarming. A kitchen island held a cutting board where potatoes and carrots lay, a knife on the board as if Edith had been preparing dinner when whoever killed her had struck.

From where she stood, she couldn’t tell if the back door had been jimmied or if the killer had broken in.

If so, had Edith heard her attacker?

She checked the woman’s fingernails, but didn’t see visible signs of DNA or skin cells, but she’d scrape and run tests to make certain. No blood or hair fibers.

What about that knife? Had Edith tried to fight off her attacker with it?

She carefully stepped around her body, searching for footprints or evidence, and spotted blood splatters on the floor near the island, although the knife didn’t appear to have blood on it.

She studied the kitchen layout and pieced together a feasible scenario. Perhaps the killer had entered through the back door, which meant Edith was facing away from him. But she’d been shot in the chest.

So...she must have heard a noise and turned to see what or who it was. Maybe she even knew the shooter, so she didn’t instantly run.

The killer then fired the weapon. The bullet struck her heart and she grabbed the island in shock. Blood had spurted from the wound immediately, splattering droplets on the floor.

She staggered toward the den and collapsed in the threshold of the door. She was trying to go out the front...maybe to get to her car? Maybe to reach her phone and call for help?

But she’d been bleeding badly, quickly grew weak and lost consciousness before she could make it to the door or her phone.

A shiver rippled up her spine. Had the same person killed Morty Burns, then came here and shot Edith?

Or...she had to consider the possibility that it was murder-suicide. Morty could have shot Edith then left and killed himself.

Except...the timing didn’t seem right. And most suicides were gunshots to the head—Morty’s had been to the heart. Also, if he had committed suicide, why wouldn’t he have killed himself here beside his wife?

Morty’s body had been dumped...

Which brought her back to the intruder theory. What kind of cold-blooded person shot an innocent woman and simply stood there and watched her die?

And why kill either of these people? Were their deaths connected to Joe McCullen’s?

* * *

QUESTIONS ASSAILED ROAN as he sped toward the Burns farm.

The fact that Edith was related to Arlis Bennett, the cousin of a man who Joe’s sons had put in jail for cattle rustling, seemed too coincidental not to raise suspicions.

He had to discuss the situation with Maddox. Finding the couple’s killer could be instrumental in determining who’d poisoned Joe.

Storm clouds moved in the sky, painting the run-down farm a depressing gray. The pastures and fields were overgrown, the farm equipment looked rusty and broken down and the barn needed a new roof. He saw no cattle or horses on the land, either.

Had money troubles driven Morty to help Boyle Gates or his brother-in-law sabotage Horseshoe Creek?

His police SUV rumbled and he rolled to a stop beside Megan’s van. On the lookout for trouble, he scanned the perimeter of the property in case someone was lurking nearby.

Dead leaves swirled in the wind across the brittle grass, and the door to the toolshed next to the house banged back and forth. An engine rumbled and he turned to see the crime team’s van racing over the hill.

He glanced back at the house and saw Megan step into the doorway. Her hair was pulled back in that tight bun again, her glasses in place. Her expression was stoic, eyes dark with the reality of what she’d discovered in the house.

For a brief second, he wanted to sweep her away from the gruesomeness of her work and his job. Take her someplace cozy and romantic like a cabin in the mountains where they could float down the river on a raft then curl up on a blanket and make love beneath the stars.

Car doors slamming jerked him from the ridiculous thoughts. He was not a man who made love under the stars or...made love at all. Sex was a physical release.

It had been good with Megan. Damn good. But it wouldn’t happen again.

She did her job because she liked it and was good at it just as he was good at solving crimes. Dead bodies were their life.

Not cozy mountain retreats.

“Dr. Lail called,” Lieutenant Hoberman said as he and two crime techs approached. “She found a body?”

Roan nodded. “Yes, the wife of a murder victim she’d autopsied.”

Lieutenant Hoberman’s brows rose. “Both murdered?”

“It looks that way. Maybe you can help us pinpoint what happened.”

Together they walked up the drive to the porch and climbed the steps. “You okay?” Roan asked Megan.

She gave a short nod, then led the way inside. The stench of decay filled the air, the sight of the woman’s body fueling Roan’s anger when he spotted her gray hair and gnarled hand reaching out as if begging for help.

Everyone pulled on latex gloves as they entered, and then they gathered around the victim. One of the crime workers began snapping photographs while the other started searching for forensics.

“It looks like she was cutting vegetables when someone entered from the back of the house,” Megan said. “I think she heard the noise and turned to see who it was, then he shot her in the chest.”

Poor woman was probably in her sixties. Dozens of pictures of her with a slender thirtysomething woman sat on the bookshelves. Then photos of Edith and a dark-haired boy and girl along with a card that read, “Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma.”

Roan’s chest squeezed. She was a grandmother for God’s sake.

She hadn’t deserved to be gunned down in her home.

Roan’s phone buzzed. Darren Bush. He excused himself and stepped on the front porch to take the call.

“Deputy Whitefeather, I got your message.”

“Yes, we’re still investigating the fires at Horseshoe Creek. When did Joe McCullen make his will?”

“Ten years ago, but he reviewed it each year.”

“Did he make any significant changes in the last few months before his death?”

“No. Well, he did purchase a couple more plots of land. He added one of those in the settlement. It went to Bobby Lowman.”

Right. “So he didn’t plan to change his will and cut Barbara or Bobby out?”

“No, God no. He was adamant about taking care of his family.”





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