Ranger Redemption

by Lynn Shannon

  Megan’s mouth dropped open and heat flooded her cheeks. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Wind moved through the forest, rustling the leaves, but Dan’s hair didn’t flutter. The strands were loaded down with so much product, it appeared painted in place.

  The chief deputy, along with Sheriff Franklin, arrived shortly after responding deputies. Two hours had gone by since the shooting, but a mixture of lawmen—troopers and deputies—still worked the scene around them.

  “He was aiming for Megan,” Luke growled. “Not the deer. And he used a laser scope. It’s hard to justify that as a mistake.”

  “You’d be surprised. Last year, a poacher nearly took out Old Man McGregor’s dog using a laser scope.” Dan smirked, pulling his e-cigarette out of his pocket. “If someone wanted to kill you, this seems like a hard way to do it. How did the shooter know y’all were out here?”

  “Spyware can be installed remotely on a phone to track someone.”

  Luke and Megan had turned off their cells. An analyst was on his way to the ranch to check the devices for any spying software.

  “If you find it, then we can reevaluate.” Dan took a drag of his e-cigarette and blew out cherry-scented smoke. “In my experience, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.”

  Megan gritted her teeth together, the ache in her jaw spreading into her scalp. She didn’t know if the chief deputy was merely negligent or purposefully muddying the waters, but either way, he was dangerous.

  Sheriff Franklin came out of the woods and approached. Judging from his reddened eyes and chapped upper lip, the sheriff was fighting off a nasty cold. Megan reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of aspirin. She’d been carrying them around since her fall down the stairs.

  “Sheriff?” She extended her hand, offering the medication.

  He smiled, causing his jowls to stretch, and took the packet. “Thanks. Woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a dump truck.”

  Sheriff Franklin sniffed and turned to Dan. “I think we’re almost done here. Can you coordinate the deputies and start putting them back on patrol?”

  “Sure thing.” Dan ambled off, smoke trailing behind him, and greeted a deputy standing near the crime-scene tape with a clap on the back. The two men talked for a moment before laughing.

  “Dan thinks this was someone hunting out of season,” Luke said.

  “On its own, I might agree, but with everything else that’s been going on…something about this ain’t sitting right.” The sheriff pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and swiped it under his nose. His expression grew dark. “I don’t like that the perpetrator shot at you, Luke, when you were in pursuit.”

  Megan flinched. The moments between hearing the rifle shots and Luke reappearing in the clearing had been the longest and worst of her life. Her instincts had been to go after him, to help, but logic kept her feet in place. Sneaking through the forest could’ve put them both in more danger. Instead, she’d closed her eyes and prayed.

  “Chad Dickerson drives a black F-150,” Luke pointed out.

  “So does half the county.” Sheriff Franklin tucked his handkerchief back in the pocket of his uniform. “Still, I don’t like this cloud hanging over the family. Nor do I like anyone taking potshots at lawmen in my county. I’m gonna talk to Heath myself, convince them to come in for an interview. In the meantime, y’all keep me informed of anything you uncover.”

  He tipped his hat to Megan and patted Luke on the back before heading down the trail toward the road.

  Megan sighed. “It’s a shame Sheriff Franklin’s retiring. There’s no telling what will happen once Dan is in charge.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened. “One problem at a time, Megs.”

  “Hey, Greg’s at your house and set up to check your phones.” Weston approached and handed his keys to Luke. “Here, take my truck. I’ll catch a ride with one of the troopers once the forensics team is done to pick it up.”

  They took the trail through the woods to the road where the vehicles were parked, each lost in their own thoughts. Megan wanted to focus on the case, but the echo of the gunshot kept reverberating in her head. She reached for Luke’s hand, interlacing her fingers with his. He pulled her closer to his side and squeezed her hand gently.

  When they located Weston’s truck, Luke opened the passenger-side door for her. Megan’s heart sprinted as her gaze drifted to his lips. It wasn’t logical—she would end up brokenhearted—but she couldn’t deny her feelings. They’d almost kissed down by the creek before the attack. By the grace of God, they’d survived the shooting, and Megan wasn’t going to waste the blessing.

  She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth against Luke’s. A simple kiss, gentle and light, but electricity jolted straight through her. When she pulled back, he looked stunned.

  “What was that for?”

  “For saving my life.” She lightly smacked his chest with the back of her hand. It was like hitting a boulder. “And that’s for scaring me half to death. You aren’t bulletproof, you know.”

  He chuckled, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “I’ll try to remember that next time.”

  “See that you do.”

  He cupped her face, sending a wave of heat through her body. His breath wafted over her lips moments before his mouth closed over hers. She melted against him, losing herself in the sensation of the moment, and everything else drifted away. All that remained was the tender way he touched her, the rapid beat of her heart, the swell of long-buried emotions breaking free.

  When the kiss ended, they were both breathless.

  “Come on,” Luke said, brushing his thumb gently across her lower lip. “Let’s get home. The analyst is waiting for us.”

  An hour later, Megan studied the whiteboard in Luke’s office. It was a giant jigsaw puzzle of suspects and evidence. She knew the answers were there, but plucking out the right ones was hard. If there was any doubt someone was trying to prevent them from getting to the truth, that was laid to rest with today’s attack.

  Nearby, Luke and the analyst, Greg, scanned her cell phone for spyware. Both of Luke’s cells—one business, one personal—had already been cleared. The two men chatted while they talked, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of Megan’s thoughts.

  Who killed you, Franny? And why?

  “This phone is clean too,” Greg announced, straightening his wire-rim glasses. “There’s no spy software on any of your devices.”

  “Are you sure?” Luke rocked back on his heels. “I can’t believe this was a random attack.”

  “How many people knew you were going riding?” Greg asked. “Is it possible someone on your staff alerted the shooter?”

  “No. I suppose a worker could’ve come back and found the stalls empty, but that wouldn’t have told them where we were going to be. I have security on the farm, but it only extends to the fence line and doesn’t include the woods.”

  The memory of Dan’s smirk flashed in Megan’s mind. His arrogance got under her skin, and he’d been so sure they wouldn’t find anything on the phones. She fingered her shirt. Could there be a GPS tracker in their clothes or…

  She smacked her forehead. “Of course. I know how he tracked us.”

  She spun on her heel and walked to the barn. Luke followed, as did Greg.

  The horses, startled by the gunshots, had run straight home. They were nestled in their stalls and she patted Fiona on her way to the tack room.

  “I haven’t been riding in Houston, but I went to the Livestock Show and Rodeo every year. Saddle theft is a serious problem.” Megan searched her saddle and quickly located the hidden tracker. “They’re designed to turn on when the saddle is moved and they provide GPS coordinates.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened and his gaze narrowed. “So much for Dan’s theory that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Together, they searched the other saddles. The only ones with trackers were the three brought
from June’s property.

  Luke turned to Greg. “Can this be traced back to the owner?”

  “Possibly. Let me run inside and do a quick search on the manufacturer.”

  He left, and Luke prowled the tack room. His lips flattened into a hard line and his hands balled into fists.

  “How long could those trackers have been on the saddles?” he asked.

  “The battery can last for more than a month before needing to be recharged. It’s possible the killer initially put it for my aunt, but I don’t think so.”

  “Neither do I. The message spray-painted on June’s barn wall was for our benefit. If you were worried someone had broken into the barn, you’d want to keep the saddles safe.”

  “I’d bring them here, just like I did with Cinnamon.” She caught on to the train of his thought. “It was only a matter of time before I went riding, and naturally, I would use a saddle I was familiar with.”

  He nodded. “You heard Dan. Poachers are often a problem in rural areas, which is what the shooter was counting on. He wanted to disguise our murders as a hunting accident gone wrong.”

  Her mind spun, whirling with information she’d gathered about the case so far. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Luke, someone else connected to this case was killed in a similar way.”

  He paused midstep, his eyes widening. “Franny’s boyfriend, Skeeter McIntyre.”

  “Wow. Now Skeeter’s death could be a part of this.” Brent rubbed a hand over his bald head. His wedding ring winked in the fluorescent light. “Why is it every time I talk to you, this case gets weirder and weirder?”

  Luke leaned against the hospital wall and sighed. Exhaustion bit into him. Across the hall, the door to June’s room was cocked open. Megan was arranging sunflowers in a vase, and she appeared to be having a conversation with her unconscious aunt. A phone rang at the nurse’s station.

  “Trust me, I wish it was a lot easier,” Luke said. “What do you think? Sound similar?”

  “Could be. Skeeter wasn’t shot in our county, but the next one over. From what I understand, he was hunting with a group of friends and was killed by a stray bullet. Skeeter wasn’t wearing a reflective vest at the time, and his friends were cleared of any wrongdoing. The investigators chalked it up to a hunting accident.”

  It wasn’t exactly the same setup as the shooting today, but it was close enough to send chills down Luke’s spine.

  Brent leaned a shoulder against the wall. “So what happens now? Are you going to compare the bullets and casings recovered from both scenes?”

  “Yep. If we’re lucky, and the cases are connected, the shooter used the same gun.”

  “Man, poor Megs. That must’ve been terrifying.” Brent sent him a knowing gaze. “For you too.”

  Luke’s gaze drifted again toward June’s room. Megan was now perched on the edge of the bed, reading from the Bible, her silky hair hiding her exquisite features. This morning’s shooting cemented the killer would stop at nothing to silence her. It hurt to breathe when he thought about how close he’d come to losing her.

  “He’s not going to stop until they’re dead,” Luke said, his worst fears clawing at his insides. “The only way to protect them is to solve this case.”

  “I should’ve checked those saddles over. I didn’t even think—”

  “There was no way for you to know, Brent. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He paused. “How’s your mom doing?”

  Brent hadn’t been one of the responding deputies at the scene because he’d been at the oncologist with his mother.

  He frowned. “She’s responding to the chemo, and they’re talking about surgery again now that the tumor has shrunk.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “It is.” Brent sighed. “But the insurance company will fight it, I’m sure. They’ve got me buried in paperwork and bills.”

  “If there’s anything you need, all you have to do is ask. Anything. Even money.”

  “I know. Thanks, man.” He pushed off from the wall and adjusted his duty belt. “I’d better get a move on. I’m on patrol, and I’ve been here a while. Thanks again, and anything you need, let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  When he disappeared down the hall, Luke rested his head back and sent his gaze skyward.

  Lord, help Brent and his mom. Cancer’s a hard thing. Also, Lord, please give Megan comfort and help June heal. Give me the strength to find this killer and protect the innocent.

  Luke continued his conversation with God while he waited. There was so much going on, not just with the case but also in his personal life. He didn’t know where the relationship with Megan was going. He cared about her, but could they really get beyond their past? Wouldn’t his actions—keeping the truth of Wade’s struggles from her and his role in handing over the evidence to the sheriff—always linger between them?

  In his mind, the answers were obvious. Yes. His own relationship with his father was proof that second chances never provided a fresh slate. But his heart…his heart longed to ignore his common sense.

  Megan emerged from the hospital room. Her shoulders were curved inward, and she looked pale. Luke closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. There wasn’t much he could do to ease her burden, except provide comfort and prayers. He intended to do both.

  She rested her head against his chest and sighed. “I can’t control it, but I want to will her into getting well. Does that sound strange?”

  “No. You’re a fixer. You see something wrong and you want to make it better. It’s frustrating when you can’t. I struggle with the same thing. But, Megs, you’re doing everything you can.”

  “I know. The rest is up to God.” She tightened her arms around his waist. “If I haven’t said it enough, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through all of this without you.”

  The woman made him feel ten feet tall. If he could prevent an ounce of hurt coming her direction, he would do it.

  “I’m your friend. It’s my job to hold you up.” He shifted, reaching into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a package of jelly beans. “And provide comfort snacks.”

  Her eyes lit up, just as he’d hoped, and she surprised him with a quick kiss. Luke’s heart took off like a racehorse. He was tempted to lean in for another, but they were standing in the middle of the hospital hallway.

  She narrowed her gaze at him, and her gorgeous mouth twitched. “Did you buy these for me, or were you craving the red ones and I’m the only person you know who will eat the rest?”

  He groaned. “You always uncover my plan.”

  They both laughed, and she opened the package. “We make a good team, Luke.”

  “We do, Megs. We definitely do.”

  He wrapped an arm around her neck and snuck a red jelly bean out of her bag. She protested and slapped his hand away but was grinning from ear to ear. The elevator ride was short, and as they approached the main exit, Luke swept his gaze over the parking lot. It was late and darkness had fallen swiftly.

  Megan’s hand wrapped around his elbow, and she slid up close to him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Just being cautious. Keep holding on to me and let’s move quickly to the vehicle.”

  Several of the parking-lot lights were out, casting deeper shadows in certain areas. Luke had specifically parked close to the front. As they passed a couple on the sidewalk, he gave them a nod of his head. Cold wind rattled the awning.

  He halted. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he scanned the parking lot again. There. A man sitting in a truck. Barely more than a shadow, but he was there. Luke’s fingers drifted toward his gun.

  The driver must’ve realized he’d been made because the truck’s engine revved and the headlights flipped on. No, not headlights. His brights. They were designed to blind Luke, but he’d anticipated the action and averted his gaze in time. He pushed Megan behind him, keeping his body between her and the truck, even as his feet propelle
d them backward toward the safety of the hospital.

  What was the plan? To run over them? Or to shoot at them?

  Luke kept his breathing steady as he unsnapped his holster. His gaze flickered from the truck to assess the parking lot in quick snaps. No one else was there, thank goodness. He didn’t want innocent bystanders caught in the middle.

  Tires squealed as the truck bolted out of the parking spot. It was black. Clean, but the same style and design as the one that the shooter had used this morning. Luke noted the license plate and looked for any decals.

  His heart jumped as the truck whipped through the parking lot. He pushed Megan harder toward the corner of the building and they took cover as the vehicle passed them. Luke got a clear view of the driver.

  Chad Dickerson.

  Fifteen

  Every day since Megan had arrived in town, the need for her blood pulsed through him. He’d almost had it today.

  Almost.

  He parked the truck in the garage and went inside, shrugging off his jacket before pouring a glass of whiskey. The liquid burned a path down his throat. Alcohol numbed the urges and took off the edge. The rifle sat on the table, ready to be cleaned. His fingers followed the line of the barrel. The cool metal chilled his skin. Megan’s face had been in his scope, his laser guiding the perfect path to take her out.

  And then he’d missed.

  His hand tightened around the glass, the jagged edges of the crystal biting into the soft flesh of his palm. Some of the best hunters in the world missed shots, but these stakes were so much higher. For the first time, he felt the nip of Lady Justice on his heels.

  He shook, his body heat rising like a volcano, until he screamed. The glass flew from his hand. It smashed against the wall and shattered into pieces. The cloying scent of alcohol filled the room.

  He was not going to prison. Not now. Not ever.

  He was a hunter. Deer. Humans. It was all the same. He took a shuddering breath. Sacrifices would have to be made, but there was a way to salvage this.