by Lynn Shannon
Next time, it would be a kill shot. Then he would have blood.
Luke’s. Megan’s.
And anyone else who threatened to get in his way.
Sixteen
The following morning, Luke parked his Suburban in the Dickersons’ driveway and got out. Warm sunshine hit the back of his neck and the scent of freshly cut grass carried on the wind. He’d arrived a minute or two early for the interview with the family and their attorney, hoping Chad would already be there. Luck was with him because a black pickup sat three cars away. He’d have to pass it on the way to the front door.
He slowed his steps as he approached the vehicle. The chrome bumper gleamed, and a hunting decal decorated the back window on the driver’s side. Luke closed his eyes, bringing up the image of the truck fleeing from the shooting yesterday. Had there been a decal in the back window? He couldn’t be sure.
Luke circled the truck, peeking inside through the windows. It was an extended cab, fully decked out with a high-priced stereo system and leather seats. It was spotlessly clean. A gun rack was installed on the interior roof, but there were no weapons.
Sheriff Franklin drove up, his boots hitting the cement with a thump as he exited his vehicle. He raised a hand in greeting before sneezing.
“This stupid cold is gonna be the death of me.”
They went up the walkway to the house together, and Luke rang the bell. Ed Rhodes, the Dickersons’ family attorney, opened the door moments later. His comb-over was swirled low on his forehead and his eyes bulged behind his glasses, giving him a faint frog-like appearance.
The attorney escorted them inside to the living room. Half-drunk glasses of sweet tea sat on the coffee table next to a plate of cookies. Chad lounged in a leather armchair, an insolent expression on his face. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he’d been up late drinking, but he appeared sober at the moment.
Heath stood behind his son, his arms crossed over his chest.
Franny’s mother, Karen, rose to greet them with a handshake. Slender with a pixie haircut, she was a mirror image of her late daughter.
“Can I get you gentleman any iced tea?” she asked. “Or some coffee?”
“They aren’t houseguests, Karen,” Heath snapped. “They’re here to pin a murder on us.”
Her complexion paled, and bit down on her lower lip.
Luke offered her a smile. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
Sheriff Franklin removed his hat and set it on the back of a chair. “We’re not here to pin a murder on anyone.”
“Well, you didn’t come to sell us Girl Scout cookies.” Heath rocked on the heels of his snakeskin boots. “Let’s get to it.”
“What were you doing at Memorial Hospital last night?” Luke asked, directing his question to Chad.
He smirked. “Getting stitches.”
Chad unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and lifted the sleeve, revealing a bandage on his forearm.
“A bull didn’t want to move to his new pen.” His grin widened. “Would you like to see the bill too?”
Luke kept his expression neutral, but Chad’s smugness didn’t sit well. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility he’d been injured days ago.
“I would appreciate having a copy of the bill,” Luke said. “Thank you for offering.”
“Oh, come on,” Heath exploded. “Are you kidding me? This is bordering on harassment, Sheriff.”
Ed cleared his throat. “My clients are understandably upset. They’ve cooperated with the investigation and provided alibis for several days in question, including their daughter’s own murder.”
“I’d still like a copy of the hospital bill.”
“You’ll have it this afternoon.” Ed straightened his pinky ring. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yes, there is.” Luke kept his gaze on the Dickerson family. “Where were each of you on November 30th two years ago?”
Chad sat up straight. “That’s the day Skeeter was shot.”
“I’m going to object to this line of questioning,” Ed said. “How can my clients remember where they were two years ago—?”
“That’s all right,” Heath interrupted. “We know where we were.”
He stepped forward and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. She flinched slightly before smoothing her expression into a carefully constructed mask.
“We were here, Ranger,” Karen said. “That’s my birthday, and I’d arranged a party for that evening. Heath and Chad were helping to set up the decorations and the outside tent for the festivities.”
“The entire day?”
“Yes.” She smiled, but the edges were tight. “I’m sure our foreman will confirm it for you. He was also helping.”
The same foreman had provided alibis for both Chad and Heath for two other incidents—the hours before June’s car accident and the day of Megan’s attack. The man’s word didn’t mean much. Heath could’ve paid him off, but proving it would be difficult.
Heath released his wife’s shoulder, and Karen took a deep breath. Luke’s gut churned. He’d been around abused women enough times to recognize the subtle clues. Karen’s voice was smooth and cultured. He tried to compare it to the woman calling to warn Megan, but like the decal on Chad’s truck, he couldn’t be sure.
Ed straightened his posture. “Why are you asking about my clients’ whereabouts on the day Skeeter was killed?”
Luke opened his mouth to give them a canned answer, but Sheriff Franklin cut him off.
“A ballistics analysis confirms the rifle used to shoot at Megan and Ranger Tatum yesterday was the same weapon used to kill Skeeter,” he said. “Obviously, that changes the investigation.”
Luke kept his posture relaxed and his attention on the family, but his mind was racing. Why would the sheriff have shared that information? It would’ve been far better to keep that fact out of the public domain.
“So Skeeter didn’t die in a hunting accident?” Ed asked. “He was murdered?”
Karen's hands tightened in her lap, the knuckles turning white with the effort. Heath’s gaze darted to his son. Chad lounged in the chair, the corners of his mouth tipped up.
Sheriff Franklin stepped forward. “Heath. Karen. I’ve been a friend of your family for a long time, and I hope I’ve earned your trust. If any of you know something about these incidents, now is the time to tell me.” He paused. “I can help you, but I can only do that if you tell me the truth.”
The room was as silent as a grave. Karen's face paled even more until she was almost translucent. Luke held his breath, the sheriff’s motives in sharing the ballistic analysis becoming clear. He was applying pressure.
Heath jutted out his chin. “We don’t know anything and we aren’t involved.”
“Then I’m sure you’d be happy to prove it,” Luke said. “I’d like permission to examine the guns you own.”
“Absolutely not.” Ed puffed out his chest. “My clients have cooperated and provided their whereabouts for the times in question. There is no reason to drag them through a search of their personal property as well.”
Every delay the family and their attorney put on his investigation only made Luke more suspicious of their involvement. He played the only card he had. “If you make me obtain a search warrant, I’ll turn this into a media fanfare.”
Ed didn’t blink. “You don’t have the probable cause necessary for a search warrant, Ranger Tatum.”
“Not yet. But make no mistake, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Megan placed Skeeter’s photograph next to Franny’s on the whiteboard and took a giant step back. From his bed in the corner of the room, Jax sighed and rolled over. The dog had been with her all morning, sleeping, while she read Skeeter McIntyre’s case file.
It hadn’t helped. Megan hadn’t uncovered any new threads to pull.
Jax lifted his head and gave a bark. Luke? Was he finally back? Megan’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned, a smile hovering on her lips.
Wes
ton appeared in the doorway.
She let out a whoosh of air, and her shoulders dropped. “Oh, hey.”
“Ouch.” He put a hand over his heart. “I’ve had prisoners give me a better greeting than that.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I thought you were Luke. He went to interview the Dickersons this morning and hasn’t come back yet. The suspense is torture.”
“He invited me for lunch, so he should be back soon.” Weston stepped farther into the room and eyed the board. “Anything interesting in Skeeter’s case file? I’ve started it but haven’t read the whole thing.”
“You aren’t missing much. The investigation focused on clearing the friends Skeeter had been hunting with. An attempt was made to locate any other hunters in the area, but the search was unsuccessful. It never occurred to the investigators to consider Skeeter’s death was linked to Franny’s.”
Nancy poked her head in the office. “Hey, you two, Luke’s back. He and Hank are already fixing plates, so if you want to grab some food, you’d better hurry.”
“Oh, no, they better not.” Weston bolted for the doorway, shouting, “I call dibs on the rolls.”
Megan and Nancy followed, laughing. The scents of roasted chicken and melted cheese filled the kitchen. Spread across the long table was enough food for an army.
Luke grinned when he caught sight of Megan and gestured at a chair next to him.
“I fixed you a plate already,” he said. “Otherwise, there might not be anything left with this human garbage disposal over here.”
Weston scooped green beans onto his plate. “Yeah, yeah. Like you and Hank don’t eat like wildebeests.”
Luke’s stepfather grunted. “We live here.”
Hank glared at Weston across the table as the younger man reached for the bread. “You take the last roll and I’ll harm you, boy.”
Weston’s hand froze over the plate before he deliberately backed away. Megan and Luke shared a glance and smothered their chuckles. Hank might be retired, but the former Marine general could still stop a man in his tracks.
“No need to get cranky, Hank.” Nancy shook her finger at her husband before patting Weston’s shoulder. “There are plenty of rolls.”
She pulled another set out of the oven. Once everyone was seated with their plates, they all joined hands and Hank blessed the food. During the meal, everyone chatted and laughed. It warmed Megan’s heart. Her life in Houston felt far away and lonely. She had Grace, but that was it. She’d left Cardin and, in doing so, closed herself off to everything resembling home.
Luke caught her eye and the corners of his lips tilted up. Her breath hitched. Since their kiss, the feelings simmering below the surface became impossible to ignore. Learning about Luke’s relationship with his father brought her own decision to bail on their relationship in stark clarity. Yes, he’d messed up by not telling her about Wade’s drinking, but she’d exacerbated the situation by breaking things off without giving him a chance to explain. Was there a way for them both to fully move past the hurt? She didn’t know, and with a killer breathing down their necks, it wasn’t the right time to sort it out.
After lunch was finished, and the dishes done, Hank and Nancy went outside to tend to a sick horse. Luke took three cups down from the cabinet and Megan filled them with coffee. She frowned, watching the older couple cross the yard hand in hand.
“Luke, they’ll be safe, right? On the property?”
“Yeah. Hank’s staying with Mom, just in case, but they are keeping to the areas where we have the security system in place. Plus, I checked all the saddles. There aren’t any other trackers.” He glanced at Weston. “Speaking of which, any luck tracing the ones we recovered?”
“Dead end. They were bought using a shell corporation registered to the Caymans. It’s impossible to trace beyond that. What about you, Luke? How did the interview with the Dickersons go?”
Luke shared the conversation and his observations, frustration bleeding into his voice. “The problem is, the attorney is right. We don’t have enough probable cause to get a search warrant.”
Weston nodded. “Now that Chad’s aware we know Skeeter was murdered with the same weapon used to shoot at the two of you, chances are he’ll get rid of the rifle.”
“I know.” Luke rubbed his chin. “I would’ve preferred to keep that information to myself, but Sheriff Franklin shared it.”
Megan gripped her mug tighter. Why would the sheriff tell the Dickersons about a key piece of information? Was he protecting them? She hadn’t been in the interview, so it was hard to judge his intentions.
“We know two of the incidents are linked because of the evidence.” Luke took a sip of his coffee. “Same gun indicates the same killer.”
“Agreed,” Weston said. “The real question we need to figure out is—if Franny’s murder is linked to Skeeter’s—why did the killer wait so long?”
“He didn’t want to attract attention. Killing Franny and then Skeeter back to back would’ve caught law enforcement’s curiosity. By spacing the murders out over the course of a year and killing Skeeter in a different county, he reduces the likelihood of them being connected.”
Megan nodded. “Different weapons too. Franny was shot with a handgun. Skeeter with a rifle. Add my brother’s confession into the mix and there’s very little chance anyone would’ve considered them linked.”
“Except your aunt,” Luke said. “June believed Wade was innocent from the get-go. She would’ve investigated Skeeter’s death herself. Maybe that’s what led her to find the evidence she called you about.”
“I don’t think so.” She frowned. “I mean, I think June figured out they were connected, but Skeeter died two years ago. Unless some new fact has arisen in the case in the last couple of months, I can’t see how that would’ve helped.”
“I keep circling back to Chad. His alibis are weak and he’s the only suspect so far with a clear motive. He was angry with Franny and Skeeter over their relationship. He kills his sister and frames Wade. Then he bides his time before shooting Skeeter.”
Weston nodded. “It fits.”
“Hey, guys, I’m gonna be the voice of dissent here.” Megan leaned her elbows on the table. “Are you sure Chad is sophisticated enough to have pulled this off? He doesn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind. For starters, he’s openly hostile. If he was trying to hide his actions, screaming at me in front of half a dozen lawmen wasn’t a good idea. He’s also made threats before and never acted on them. Even his actions last night weren’t terribly smart. He didn’t even try to disguise himself.”
“Could be arrogance,” Weston said. “Chad may believe he’s untouchable because of his father.”
Luke drained the last of his coffee. “He could also be crazy like a fox. By being openly hostile, we think he’s incapable of a well-plotted murder. But I think Chad’s smarter than most give him credit for.”
“Hmm, I hadn’t thought about it that way.” Megan fiddled with the key hanging from the chain around her neck. “I wish we could figure out what evidence my aunt uncovered. I have the sinking feeling she found Franny’s journals and hid them somewhere.”
Luke shook his head. “It might not be the journal. The gun used to kill Franny is still missing. June may have uncovered it.”
“Whatever it is, she hid it well. We haven’t been able to located anything that key goes to,” Weston said. He stood and stretched, his fingers brushing the ceiling. “I’d better be on my way, guys. I’m going to interview the friends Skeeter was on the hunting trip with again. Maybe something new will shake loose. Try to keep yourselves out of trouble while I’m gone, okay?”
Luke flashed a grin to his friend. “We’ll try.”
Megan wagged her eyebrows. “But we make no promises.”
“Ha-ha. Y’all are so funny.” He opened the back door. “Keep it up and I’m gonna get the boss to put you on house arrest.”
With that parting warning, Weston left. Megan stood. She picked up her mug, alo
ng with Weston’s, and took them over to the sink. “Let’s go to the Wake Up Cafe. Rosa messaged earlier and asked if I would stop by this afternoon.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be wandering around town.”
She spun to face him. “Thank goodness, because I don’t intend on wandering. I’m going to see my aunt’s friend and continue with the investigation.”
His lips flattened and his jaw took on a stubborn edge. He added his own cup to the sink. “Megs—”
“Don’t even think about it.” She narrowed her gaze. “We made a deal, remember?”
“That was made before a madman shot at you.”
“Doesn’t change the deal. I’m not going to be scared away from proving my brother’s innocence. I came here for a reason and I intend to see it through.” She kept her gaze locked on him. “You can’t prevent me from doing this, Luke. I make my own choices.”
“I know that.” He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before sighing. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Megs. You could’ve died.”
The tremble in his voice was slight, but she heard it. Megan placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart. It thumped against her palm.
“Would you stop working as a Texas Ranger? It’s dangerous. You could die.”
“It’s my job. It’s…”
“It’s worth the risk.” She leaned closer, the heat of his body and the feelings buried in the deep blue of his eyes pulling her in. “And this is worth it to me, Luke.”
He brushed her mouth with his. The kiss was soft and sweet, and Megan’s heart ached for what she’d lost. What she’d thrown away so carelessly. It terrified her to think she might not be able to get it back.
Seventeen
The Wake Up Cafe was at the corner of Main and Second in the center of town. Dark wood floor and plush chairs gave the space a comfortable feel. Megan breathed in the scent of fresh-ground coffee mingled with blueberry muffins. Several of the tables had patrons and jazz music mingled with murmured voices. A couple of youngsters played in the children’s area. Luke fell into step beside her as they crossed the cafe.