Warrior Son

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

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

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.