Ranger Redemption

by Lynn Shannon

  “That’s Granny. She’s smiling, but the strokes have made it harder for her mobility.” Ruby lowered her voice. “I’m afraid she doesn’t remember much either. She was doing okay until the stroke last month. As you can see, questioning her won’t be possible.”

  Luke swallowed back his frustration. “A deputy from the Medina County Sheriff’s Office stopped by last week. Did he speak to you?”

  “No, but there’s a neighbor who comes twice a week for a few hours. Just to give me a chance to run errands. My husband is deployed overseas, so I don’t have any help.”

  The baby in her arms started crying, stretching chubby arms out in anger. Ruby bounced the infant and half waved for them to follow her.

  “Come into the kitchen. I have to get dinner ready. I didn’t live here with my cousin and Granny at the time of his death, but I can try to answer your questions.”

  The kitchen was spacious but in desperate need of renovation. Ruby tried to set the baby down in a swing, but the infant only screamed louder.

  Ruby sighed. “How does she always know when I’m about to cook?”

  “May I?” Megan asked, stepping forward. “I’m sure a moment’s peace and two free hands isn’t something you get often.”

  “Would you? Thank you so much. I’m trying to keep Vivian on a consistent schedule, but it’s not easy between taking care of the baby and Granny.”

  “I bet not.”

  Megan scooped the infant into her arms and murmured sweet words. Luke’s gaze lingered on them. For half a second, he let himself imagine it was their child she was holding. The idea should have terrified him, but the memory of their kiss from earlier in the day melded with the image and his heart galloped.

  “I suppose you’ve done a background check on Quentin and saw he was arrested in the past for drugs,” Ruby said, pulling a package of ground beef out of the refrigerator. “That’s a big part of the reason why the investigators were convinced he’d overdosed.”

  Her words brought reality crashing down on Luke, along with every reason why a relationship with Megan wouldn’t work. He’d had a hand in putting her brother in prison. Whatever feelings lingered between them could only be temporary. There was no way to survive the hurt long-term.

  Luke shifted his focus back to where it belonged: on the case.

  “Why was your grandmother convinced otherwise?” he asked.

  “Because Quentin was clean and regularly attending NA meetings.” Her lips flattened into a thin line. “He was also scared. Granny told me he’d gotten messed up with some nasty people. She begged him to go to the police, but he refused.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Anything I tell you would be a guess, but my impression was Quentin was scared of the cops.” She gripped the frying pan handle and stirred the meat as it cooked. “I’m not sure if that’s because he did something illegal he didn’t want them to know about or if it was for a different reason.”

  Luke weighed the information. If Quentin had been involved in selling drugs, it would make sense he’d be nervous about going to the police.

  “What did June uncover?” he asked.

  Ruby opened a cabinet and pulled down a can of tomato sauce. “I don’t know a lot. She and Granny insisted on keeping the investigation very quiet. June told me the less I knew, the better.”

  Luke stiffened, and his gaze shot to the baby before settling back on Ruby. What had June uncovered that made her so scared? Who was Quentin working with?

  Megan rocked the baby. “Did my aunt come by here last Friday?”

  Ruby nodded. “In the afternoon. I’d say around two thirty or so, but she didn’t stay long. She chatted a couple of minutes with Granny and left.”

  It took about twenty minutes to drive from Cardin to the Perdues’ ranch. If June only stayed a few minutes, that still left an hour and a half of her time unaccounted for. So where else did she go?

  Ruby paused in her stirring. “Wait, there was something else. June went in Quentin’s room before she left.”

  Luke leaned forward. “Quentin’s room is still intact?”

  “Oh yeah.” She pointed to an area off the kitchen with her ladle. “It’s over there. Granny insisted we keep it as-is.”

  “Mind if we look around?”

  “No, go ahead.” She took the baby from Megan. “Thanks for holding her.”

  The bedroom wasn’t large. A twin bed sat underneath a window covered in plaid curtains. The closet was cocked open, neatly hung shirts visible, shoes lined up in a row on the floor. Photos of Quentin lined the bureau. His shaggy hair hung in his eyes, and he favored jeans and a western-style shirt.

  “He’s won awards for calf roping.” Megan pointed out the belt buckles intermingled with the pictures. “Wonder if he ran in the same rodeo circles with Chad?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  On the wall, hung as if they were decorations, were various guns. An inscription on the cylinder of a revolver caught Luke’s eye. He frowned.

  Megan stepped closer, the scent of honeysuckle following. “What is it?”

  “That gun…” He pointed to it. “I’ve seen it before. It was confiscated from a parolee along with a bunch of others.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” His chest was tight. It hurt to breathe. “That inscription is unique, and the original owner is deceased without any living relatives.”

  She frowned. “But…if it was confiscated…and not returned to the original owner, that means—”

  “It should be in the Medina County Sheriff Department’s evidence room. So how did Quentin get his hands on it?”

  Megan lifted her cell phone, angling it to eliminate the glare from the lamp on the nightstand. She stifled a yawn. It’d been a long day.

  “After we found the gun in Quentin’s room, Luke called his superior,” she said. “They’ll audit the evidence room at the sheriff’s department to see if things are being stolen.”

  On screen, Grace tucked a braid behind her ear. “Doesn’t the sheriff’s evidence room have cameras?”

  Megan leaned against the headboard. “Nope. It’s a small department with minimal resources and, like many rural areas, a big drug problem. A deputy will do a bust and bring in the contraband. A small portion of it gets sent to the state lab for testing to determine the type of substance it is—cocaine, meth, etc—but the rest stays in the evidence room. Eventually, the drugs or the guns are supposed to be destroyed after the case is brought to trial. But someone could steal some or all of the contraband and then claim it’s been destroyed when actually it’s being resold.”

  “And you think Quentin was working with someone in the sheriff’s department?”

  “Yep. It adds a layer of protection if you have someone acting a go-between. Say a deputy wants to steal cocaine and sell it. He doesn’t want to run the risk the buyers will recognize him as a law enforcement officer. So he arranges for someone else to be the seller, in this case Quentin.”

  Her friend nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “We were focusing on the wrong motive.” Megan blew out a breath. “Franny worked in the evidence room, and I suspect, she uncovered the thefts and was killed because of it.”

  Grace rested her head on her hand. “If that’s true, why didn’t Franny tell Sheriff Franklin what was going on?”

  “That’s a good question. He claims he had no idea, but he could be lying. Sheriff Franklin was at Franny’s party on the night of her murder. He only stayed ten minutes or so, but that’s all the time it would’ve taken to steal Wade’s cell phone and hide it in the couch cushions.”

  “So, it could be anyone in the department. How much money are we talking about, do you think?”

  “A lot. Luke told me last month the sheriff’s deputies confiscated a shipment of cocaine on its way north. The street value exceeded fifty thousand dollars.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

&nbs
p; Grace drummed her nails on the desk. “And what about Skeeter?”

  “My guess is that Franny told him about the thefts and the killer got wind of it.” Megan rolled her head to stretch out the tight muscles in her neck. “I don’t know if Skeeter ever talked to June because her notes were destroyed in the fire.”

  “Do you still want me to run the Dickersons’ financials?”

  “Yes. Quentin participated in calf-roping and Chad was a bull rider. Maybe there’s a link there. I don’t want to rule out a thread of investigation yet, even if it’s going onto the back burner.”

  Their forensic accountant was expensive and could work a lot quicker than the Texas Rangers. He didn’t need warrants or probable cause to dig, and he had plenty of connections to countries where off-shore accounts were common.

  “How’s June doing?” Grace asked.

  “Same. I just came from visiting her a little while ago. She’s strong and the doctors are still hopeful but cautious.” Megan ran her finger over the edge of the Bible on her nightstand. “Your present came today. Thank you.”

  Her friend smiled. “Keep searching for the truth, Megs, but also keep up with those prayers. He’s listening.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, and after Megan hung up, she reached for the Bible. It had a delicate woven string attached as a bookmark. Opening to the page, she smiled. Grace had flagged Ecclesiastes 3:17, and Megan read it out loud.

  “God will bring into judgment both the righteous and the wicked, for there will be a time for every activity, a time to judge every deed.”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

  Lord, I don’t know why things have to be this way. Why did Wade have to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit? Why did June have to be injured? Why did Franny have to die? It hurts, God. It makes me angry. But I still surrender to Your will. I know things must happen in their own time. I’ll keep looking for the truth, so I hope You will use me as Your instrument, but I won’t fight You anymore. I’ll have faith.

  A peace enveloped her, settling in her spirit like a warm, comforting blanket. For the first time, Megan sensed things would be okay. She set the Bible back down on the nightstand and went to search for Luke.

  He was in the living room. The fireplace was lit, providing warmth. Her slippers didn’t make a sound against the rug in the hall and she paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Luke sat on the couch, his brow furrowed in thought, writing on a pad of paper. Bristles shadowed his strong jaw, and the firelight played with the edges of his chiseled features. Jax was sprawled at his feet, long ears flopped on the rug, and Archimedes was tucked up against his side.

  “You all look very cozy together,” she remarked. “Did your parents go to bed?”

  “Yep. You just missed them, but Mom left you some hot chocolate.”

  He jerked his chin to the mug on the table. Mini-marshmallows floated on top of the dark liquid.

  “It’s a new recipe. She wants a report tomorrow morning on whether this one is better than yesterday’s. Hank and I both gave our opinion, but Mom wasn’t interested.”

  “Hank gave his in grunts, and yours was probably ‘good’ with a shoulder shrug.”

  His mouth quirked. “How did you know?”

  They laughed, and Megan scooped up the still-warm hot chocolate before settling in on the couch. Jax opened one eye, and she patted him in greeting. He sighed and went back to sleep.

  “What are you working on?” she asked, sipping her drink. It was rich and smooth, and the sweet chocolate mingled with the faint scent of cinnamon. Definitely better than yesterday’s.

  “I’m making notes about the case using the potential new angle.” He passed the notepad over to her. “If someone is stealing from the evidence room, we need to move fast. The thief has had a lot of time to clean up his tracks. Based on everything else, the perpetrator is organized and methodical. I don’t expect this to be any different.”

  She nodded and scanned the paper. He’d made notations next to his top suspects. Dan and Sheriff Franklin were high on the list, but so was an unexpected addition.

  Her mouth dropped open. “You suspect Brent might be involved?”

  “He’s financially struggling because of his mom’s cancer. He has access to the evidence room, and we left him alone with the saddles, which gave him plenty of time to add the trackers.”

  With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Megan realized he was right.

  “I also can’t overlook that he was an investigator on Franny’s case,” Luke continued. “It would’ve been easy for him to manipulate or hide evidence. He’s also warned me about rocking the boat and upsetting Dan.”

  “He did? When?”

  “When you first arrived in town and then again today when I confronted him about Quentin’s case. Brent claims it's because he’s looking out for me, but with these new developments, I wonder if he’s hiding something.”

  “I suppose the financial trouble applies to Cindy as well. She’s also very organized and methodical.” She bit her lip. “Could it be possible two people are working together? Like Brent and Cindy? Or Cindy and the sheriff?”

  “I won’t take anything off the table. I’m hoping the audit of the evidence room will give us a better impression of how much is being stolen. The more that’s missing, the more likely it is that many people are involved. There have been cases of entire departments taking a cut.”

  Megan took another sip of her hot chocolate, letting the warm liquid soothe her nerves. She didn’t want to imagine the entire Medina County Sheriff’s Department being corrupt. It was too much. She scanned his paper again.

  “I don’t know, Luke. Like we said earlier, this perpetrator is methodical. I could buy two people working together, but not a whole crowd. The more people who know, the greater the potential for exposure. It defeats the purpose of having Quentin as your go-between.”

  “Good point.” Luke leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I hate this.”

  He didn’t need to explain. There was a brotherhood among those that carried the badge and a fierce loyalty that went with it.

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face. “Your brother’s in prison and I’m bemoaning about rooting out a crooked cop.”

  “Don’t apologize. These people are your friends and our neighbors. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to believe in their goodness.”

  His gaze locked on hers. Midnight blue in the firelight, nearly black, Luke’s eyes entranced her. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, leaving a trail of molten heat in its wake.

  Her breath hitched and her chest felt tight. Luke’s fingers scraped across the sensitive skin of her ear, briefly touching the gold hoop earring before reaching out and taking the mug from her hand. He set it on the table and pulled her into his arms.

  His lips brushed against hers. The faint taste of hot chocolate lingered on his lips, and Megan’s heart rate skyrocketed. The kisses were tender and sweet. When he pulled back, she traced the faint scar at the corner of his mouth. His hero mark. The one he’d earned defending a woman from her abusive husband in the hall outside a courtroom years ago. The one that reminded her of the day he stole her heart.

  He still had it. Her heart. Her love. The truth hit her like a sledgehammer to the head and was as undeniable as the air she breathed.

  “Luke, I love you.” The words tumbled out before she could think about them or even second-guess the decision to say them out loud. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

  He let out a breath. “Megs—”

  His phone rang, cutting off whatever Luke was about to say. He simultaneously grabbed it from the coffee table and stood from the couch. It was a physical distance that mirrored the emotional one. He’d only said her name, but she had years of experience in reading Luke. There’d been hesitation riding the timbre of his voice.

  He cared about her, that much she
knew. Maybe he even loved her. But that didn’t translate into forever. And Luke would never make promises or say words he didn’t intend to keep.

  “Ranger Tatum.” He put the phone to his ear. “Never mind, Lieutenant, I was awake.”

  Megan sat up straighter. Luke’s boss wouldn’t call this late unless she had news. He listened intently, his posture growing rigid. A muscle in his jaw worked.

  “Ten tomorrow morning. Yes, ma’am, I’ll be there.” Luke’s gaze shot to her. “May I make one request? Can Megan sit in on the meeting?”

  He paused. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll see you then.”

  Luke hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. “The gun recovered from Quentin’s bedroom is a match to the one reported stolen by the original owner.”

  “So it’s official. Someone stole it from the evidence room.”

  He nodded. “There’s more, Megs. They did a ballistic analysis of the weapon and came up with a match. It was the gun used to kill Franny.”

  Nineteen

  Nervous energy pulsed through Luke’s veins the next morning as he paced the conference room in the state police department. He’d arrived early for the meeting, along with Megan, and explained the latest developments in the case to his fellow rangers. Now, they were waiting for Lieutenant Rodriguez to arrive.

  “I don’t see anything but a blob.” Weston tilted Grady’s phone one way and then the other. On screen, an ultrasound image turned and resized. “A nice blob, but still…just a blob.”

  “Thank goodness you became a ranger and not a doctor.” Grady snatched his phone and turned it long ways. He pointed at the screen. “Right there. That’s the head. See the eyes and the mouth?”

  Weston squinted. “Uhhh, sure.”

  Grady let out an exasperated sound. “Luke, help me out here.”

  He’d already had his viewing session and agreed with Weston. He held up his hands. “There’s a reason I’m not a doctor either.”

  “Show me.” Megan scooted closer and took the phone. She smiled. “I see it. It’s obvious. His head is here. There’s the nose and his eyes. Is that his hand near his mouth?”