Ranger Redemption

by Lynn Shannon

  “Hey, Gerdie.” Megan greeted the young woman behind the counter with a smile. “How are you today?”

  “Fine.” She shoved her glasses up on her nose and shifted on her feet. Her glossy hair was loose today, tumbling over her narrow shoulders. “What can I get for you?”

  They placed their orders and someone called Megan’s name. She turned as Kyle approached from the rear. His eyes were watery and his complexion pale. He held out a hand to prevent her from hugging him in greeting.

  “I’ve caught my uncle’s cold. I don’t want to give it to you.” Kyle sniffled, shifting the motorcycle helmet in his left hand to his right. “How are you, Megs?”

  “I’m hanging in there.”

  Gerdie set a to-go cup on the counter with a snap. “Here you go, Kyle. I added lemon and honey to the tea.”

  “You’re an angel.” He retrieved his drink, and the chains on his boots jingled. He turned back to Megan and Luke, lowering his voice. “How’s the investigation going?”

  “We’re making progress.” Megan frowned. “Kyle, do you remember Chad talking with Wade at Franny’s party?”

  He stared at the floor in thought. “Ummm, yeah, I do. It was weird because Chad and Wade weren’t such good friends, you know. But Wade is one of those guys who’s relaxed. He’ll talk to anyone.”

  Megan passed a quick glance to Luke. His theory might be right after all. If Chad was close enough to her brother to steal his phone, then he could’ve framed him.

  Kyle took a sip of his tea. “Come to think of it, Wade talked to many people that night. You know most of the sheriff’s department cycled through, and he was friendly with all of them because of his work with your aunt. Lots of Franny’s friends are rodeo people because of her brother and dad. It was a crowd.”

  “Did you notice anyone act strangely that night?” Luke asked.

  “Naw.” Kyle caught Gerdie’s eye and waved her over. “Hey, on the night of Franny’s party, did you notice anything weird?”

  The young woman blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by the question.

  Kyle laughed. “Sorry. That was blunt.”

  “Gerdie, I didn’t know you were at the party that night.” Megan racked her brain, trying to determine if there was an interview for her in Franny’s file. She didn’t remember seeing one, but that didn’t mean much, since half of the file was missing. “Did the investigators talk to you?”

  Gerdie swallowed hard. “They did, but I couldn’t tell them much. I was only there for a short while. And no, sorry, I didn’t notice anything strange.”

  “That’s okay. It was worth asking.”

  “I’d better get moving.” Kyle sniffed again. “My bed is calling my name. If you guys need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks. We will.”

  Gerdie went back to filling their order, and Rosa came through the back entrance. She beelined over, her brows furrowed and eyes shadowed with worry.

  “Megan, Luke, thanks for stopping by.”

  “Of course.” Megan patted the older woman’s arm. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine.” Rosa glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer. “Bessie came over this morning to quilt and we got to talking. We may have news about the case that could help.”

  Megan’s heart leaped, but she resisted asking questions. Clearly, her aunt’s friend wanted to speak with them about it in private.

  Rosa quickly added two more coffees to the order, along with a plate of blueberry muffins. “And Gerdie, could you bring everything over to the house?”

  Her niece nodded as she flipped on the bean grinder. “Sure, Aunt Rosa.”

  “Come on.” Rosa waved for Luke and Megan to follow her. “Bessie’s working at my place.”

  She led them to a door in the back. A small courtyard separated the coffee shop from the rest of the property. When she opened the door to her home, a clamor of barking erupted. Two Chihuahuas raced around the corner.

  “Fudge and Cookie, stop that right now,” Rosa scolded, but in a singsong tone that did nothing to halt the yapping dogs. They circled the guests like attack drones.

  “Watch your ankles,” Megan whispered to Luke before following Rosa down the hall.

  A whirring sound stopped and started and then stopped again. When they entered the kitchen, Bessie was seated, peering at the fabric in her hands over the edge of her reading glasses. A multicolored scarf was wrapped around her head and on the plank table in front of her was a sewing machine, bobbins, and a large quilting hoop.

  Bessie looked up and her entire face brightened with a smile. She started to rise from the chair. “Megan! Luke!”

  Megan waved her down, quickly closing the distance to give the other woman a hug. Luke kissed her cheek.

  “It’s so good to see the both of you. Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course.” Something nipped Megan’s ankle, and she shifted to avoid the yapping dog. “Rosa mentioned you might have information about the case we’re working on.”

  “Yes. Sit, sit.” Bessie waved to the chairs at the table. “I didn’t reach out earlier because I haven’t been paying much attention to the town news. I had my chemo a couple of days ago and it knocked the wind right out of me. Today’s the first day I’m feeling myself, and I came right over here to visit with Rosa.”

  Bessie talked a mile a minute and Megan’s head was spinning as she pulled out a chair. Luke removed his hat and joined her.

  Rosa took a seat next to Bessie. The dogs, thankfully, hopped up next to her. She picked up the quilting hoop and started adding stitches to the cloth. “I told Bessie everything about the investigation this morning while we were sewing.”

  “I’m working on this quilt for my nephew. He’s graduating high school this year, going to A&M in the fall, and this is for his bed at college.” Bessie opened up the fabric and frowned. “Shoot. My stitching’s crooked. Megan, dear, can you remove these for me?”

  “Uhhh, I don’t know how—”

  “I’ll do it.” Luke reached for the fabric and some sort of weird tool. “Mrs. Granger, you have us on the edge of our seats. What’s going on?”

  “Right, well, Rosa mentioned when June had her accident she might’ve been coming from Woodville. Now, your aunt didn’t talk about her cases often, Megan, but there was one she kept asking us to pray about. Quentin Purdue. Young kid, around eighteen or so. He died of a supposed overdose last year, but his grandmother wasn’t buying it. She hired June a while back to look into the matter.”

  “Remember when you asked me about Woodville at church?” Rosa asked. “I knew it rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember why. Bessie remembered Quentin’s grandmother lives out that way.”

  Megan frowned. The case wasn’t familiar, but June didn’t discuss everything with her.

  “When did my aunt start working the case?”

  Bessie fiddled with the end of her scarf. “I’d say around three months ago. It was something of a rush because the grandmother is very ill. June wanted to get to the bottom of the case before she died.”

  Gerdie entered the kitchen, her soft-soled shoes squeaking against the linoleum. She set a bag down on the table and the scent of muffins tickled Megan’s nose. From the laundry room, the washing machine started banging.

  “Gerdie, hon, would you close that door?” Rosa asked. “Silly washing machine walks all over the room when it starts the spin cycle.”

  Luke ripped out the last stitch and handed the fabric back to Bessie. She perched her glasses on her nose and studied his work.

  “Luke, dear, you did a fantastic job. Oh, your momma raised you right by teaching you how to sew. I wish more men were like you.”

  Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Megan’s mouth twitched, and she nudged Luke under the table with her foot. It hadn’t been his mother who taught him. Hank could wield a needle and thread better than any seamstress.

  Color rose in Luke’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Mrs. Granger, you w
ere telling us about Quentin.”

  “Right.” Bessie nodded. “Like I said, the police are convinced Quentin died of an overdose, but June was also certain he was murdered.”

  Gerdie stumbled, a plate for the muffins in her hand, and Luke caught her before she could fall. A blush flooded Gerdie’s face, and she muttered, “Sorry.”

  Megan leaned on the table. “Why did June believe he’d been murdered?”

  Bessie grabbed a straight pin out of a stuffed tomato. “Well, I don’t rightly know. Your aunt didn’t give us a play-by-play of her cases, dear. But the Wednesday before her accident, she asked for extra prayers. Made me think maybe she was making progress on Quentin’s case, and I was sure to send up a message to the good Lord asking for His help.”

  Rosa nodded in agreement.

  “What about Franny’s murder? Did she ever talk about that?”

  “Only a bit here and there. Honestly, I thought she’d given up on that investigation a long time ago.”

  Megan took the coffee Gerdie offered, her mind whirling with the new information. She’d also thought her aunt was done looking into her brother’s innocence. Was it possible she’d stumbled across new evidence while working Quentin’s case?

  “Anyway, even though I wasn’t caught up on everything going on, I did mention this to Brent after I heard of June’s car accident,” Bessie continued. “I thought it might be pertinent. I mean, Megan, I always said your aunt missed her calling as a NASCAR driver. She liked her gas pedal, but she never had an accident. I didn’t believe for one moment she went into the ravine on her own.”

  “When you told Brent about it, what did he say?” Luke asked.

  Megan didn’t shift positions, but she heard the undertone hidden in Luke’s voice. He was furious.

  “Oh, he told me not to worry myself about it. You know my boy, Luke. But when Rosa mentioned you thought June was in Woodville…well, I didn’t feel right about not saying something to you. Just in case it slipped Brent’s mind.”

  Luke’s muscles were rigid, and a headache was brewing in the base of his skull as he stepped into the bullpen of the sheriff’s department. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the desks were empty. Dan’s office was dark, the door closed, as was the sheriff’s.

  “Wait here,” he told Megan, pointing to a chair at an empty desk. “I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded and sat down. Luke was thankful she didn’t put up a fuss. Yes, this concerned her as well, but the conversation with Brent would be easier without an audience. And probably more honest.

  He marched through the bullpen to the conference room they’d taken over as a command center for the investigation. Brent was inside, writing notes on the whiteboard.

  “Did your mother tell you about a case June was working on?” Luke asked, cutting straight to the chase.

  Brent blinked, and his mouth dropped open slightly. “Yeah. She mentioned it a couple of days ago.”

  “And you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me about?” He pointed a finger at the photograph of June’s wrecked car hanging in the middle of the whiteboard. “That’s my case up there, Brent. Anything that could pertain to it, I should know about.”

  “That’s…it doesn’t…” He took a deep breath. “Okay, hold on. I get why you're ticked off, but the two cases aren’t connected.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Quentin Perdue died of an overdose. I know June was suspicious, but the guy was an addict and the batch of drugs he’d taken was bad. There was nothing more to it.”

  “Your mother mentioned June may have found something new on the case?”

  Brent fiddled with his wedding ring. “I know, but I visited Camilla Perdue, Quentin’s grandmother. She’s had several strokes and the last one made it impossible for her to answer any of my questions. The caregiver I spoke to said June hadn’t been there on the day of her accident. Honestly, Luke, there’s nothing to the case.”

  It all sounded good, but Luke couldn’t let go of the fact that Brent never mentioned it. It made it seem like he had something to hide.

  “Who worked the case?”

  Brent hesitated. “Dan did.”

  It could be a coincidence. The sheriff’s office didn’t have many investigators, but he wasn’t taking chances.

  “I want to see the file,” Luke said.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “What?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “My job?”

  “Oh, come on, Luke. You may be a ranger and immune to political pressure, but you still have to work with the local law enforcement. Opening another one of Dan’s cases without good cause will make it seem like you’re gunning for the guy. It’s a terrible idea, and it could set you back professionally.”

  Luke’s gaze narrowed. “This is the second time you’ve tried to warn me about this case.”

  “Because it’s personal for you, and there’s a reason why we don’t work cases that are personal. The decisions you make aren’t always logical when emotions are involved. I’m also your friend and I’m looking out for you.”

  “Is that it? Or is there something more? After all, if Dan is elected, he’ll become your boss.”

  “That’s incredibly insulting.” Brent stiffened and color rose in his cheeks. “Is that what you think of me?”

  Luke didn’t know what to think. Every time he turned around, someone else was hiding something about this case. Then again, maybe he was being a touch paranoid. Brent had never given him a reason to distrust him.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke said. “It’s been a frustrating couple of days.”

  “I get it.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his bald head. “Luke, listen, we all want the same thing. I know Dan can get intense, but there’s no indication he’s done anything wrong.”

  He valued Brent’s opinion, but Luke had lost a lot of faith in Dan after finding him in the evidence room threatening Megan. No lawman—even an angry one—should act like that.

  “Tread lightly,” Brent continued. “You don’t want to get a reputation as a cop who attacks other cops. That won’t endear you to the local law enforcement. Don’t let your feelings about this case cloud your judgment and ruin the career you’ve worked so hard to build.”

  Luke was sorely tempted to throw Brent’s last piece of advice right back at him. They both had personal involvements and ties. The chances of Dan becoming the next sheriff were high, and everyone in the building would be cautious about being seen as disloyal.

  It made him wonder if there was anyone in the sheriff’s department he could trust.

  Eighteen

  Camilla Perdue lived in a two-story farmhouse on the outskirts of Woodville. Weeds poked out of the flowerbeds, and the siding was in desperate need of a new coat of paint. A large dog on the far side of the yard jumped and barked furiously when they got out of the vehicle.

  Megan eyed the beast with trepidation. “Do you think the chain will hold him?”

  Luke prayed it would. He’d already put himself between her and the dog as they went up the walk, but he couldn’t resist teasing her.

  “I thought you liked dogs.”

  “I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to be lunch.”

  He chuckled and pressed on the doorbell. Nothing happened. Opening the screen door, he gave the inner one a solid rap with his knuckles. Moments later, it was opened by a freckle-faced redhead around three or four wearing a cartoon T-shirt.

  “Hi,” he greeted her. “Is your mommy home?”

  She narrowed her gaze and put her tiny hands on her hips. “Are you a bad guy or a good guy?”

  Beside him, Megan pressed her lips together as if she was holding in a laugh. Luke opened his jacket to reveal the ranger badge pinned to his shirt.

  “I’m a police officer. That makes me a good guy.”

  “Vivian!” A woman hurried down the stairs. She was barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a stained shirt. A white cloth was slung over one shoulde
r and she was carrying an infant. “Haven’t I told you not to open the door to strangers?”

  “But, Momma, he’s a policeman.”

  The girl’s mother looked up, seeming to register their identities for the first time. Her eyes, shadowed with dark circles, widened slightly.

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.” Luke flashed his badge again. “Texas Ranger Luke Tatum and this is Megan Hunt. Is this Camilla Perdue’s residence?”

  “It is. I’m her granddaughter, Ruby.” She waved them inside, her gaze never leaving Megan’s face. “You look so familiar…”

  “My aunt is June Carpenter—”

  “Oh, my goodness, yes.” Ruby’s hand fluttered to her forehead, and she swiped her bangs out of her eyes. “I used to be a makeup artist, so faces are a big thing for me. You have June’s mouth and chin. How is your aunt? She hasn’t been by this week and…”

  Her gaze skipped to Luke, the joy fleeing from her expression. “Is everything okay?”

  Luke glanced at Vivian, still watching them with an eagle-eyed gaze. Ruby caught on right away and said, “Vivian, honey, you can go into the living room and watch TV with Granny until dinner is ready.”

  The little girl flew off, her long hair fluttering behind her, and disappeared around a corner. Megan gently explained about June’s accident.

  Ruby hugged her infant closer. “That’s horrible. I knew something wasn’t right when she didn’t come by.”

  “How do you know June?” Luke asked.

  “My grandmother hired her to look into my cousin’s death a few months ago. Granny was convinced Quentin didn’t die of an overdose.”

  “Would it be possible for me to speak with Mrs. Perdue?” Luke asked.

  “I’m afraid not.” She sighed. “Come with me.”

  She led them to the entrance of the living room. An elderly woman with thin white hair and bloodshot eyes slouched in a wheelchair. On the television, a game show played. Vivian bounced on the couch and the elderly woman’s eyes followed the child. Her lips twisted into a grimace.