Warrior Son. Rita Herron
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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?”
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