Warrior Son

by Rita Herron

  “All right, thank you, Deputy Whitefeather.”

  He wanted to tell her it was what family did, but he wasn’t part of this close-knit group. All he ever would be was Maddox’s deputy. Although hopefully Maddox considered him a friend.

  That would have to be enough.

  He ended the call, then glanced at the door to Megan’s room. He had to at least tell her where he was going. Surely she’d be safe here alone until he returned.

  Body taut with tension, he knocked softly on her bedroom door. “Megan?”

  She didn’t answer, so he knocked again, then heard a noise inside. It sounded...as if she was crying.

  Terrified someone had broken in through her window, he shoved open the door. She was thrashing at the covers, kicking and clawing at some invisible force.

  His lungs tightened and he raced over to her, sank onto the bed and gently grabbed hold of her arms. “Megan, it’s okay, I’m here.”

  She shoved at his hands and released a sob.

  He gently shook her. “Megan, wake up, honey, it’s just a nightmare. I’m here and you’re safe.”

  She continued to fight, but he cradled her face between his hands and spoke softly again. “Megan, look at me. It’s Roan. You’re home safe in your bed.”

  She went very still then, as if his words sank in, but her body was trembling. She released a cry then sank against him, her breathing choppy.

  He pulled her in his arms and rocked her back and forth, soothing her with soft words until her breathing grew steady and her cries quieted.

  God...he hated the bastard who’d stuffed her in that body bag.

  “Megan, are you okay?”

  She nodded against his chest, then lifted her head. Her tear-soaked eyes and the remnants of fear darkening the depths tore at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a raw whisper. “I’m not usually a crier.”

  He chuckled softly. “Somehow I knew that.” He raked her hair from her cheek. “But you’re allowed. Someone did attack you last night.”

  “I know.” She shivered again. “I’ll be okay, though. I will.”

  The pride and determination in her voice made him smile again. “I don’t doubt that.” He stroked her back, once again vowing to find the bastard who’d hurt her. “Listen, I hate to leave, but Mama Mary called.”

  She instantly straightened, her concern for everyone else taking precedence over her own fears. “Is Maddox okay?”

  He nodded. “He’s stable. Rose is with him. She won’t leave his side.”

  “It’s obvious how much they love each other,” she said in an almost wistful tone.

  “Yeah. But someone broke into the ranch house.”

  Megan gasped. “Is everyone okay? Was Mama Mary there?”

  “Not at the time, and she’s fine. Just shaken. It sounds like they were looking for something in the study. I’m meeting a crime team there.”

  Megan reached for the covers to get up. “I’ll go with you.”

  He caught her hand. “You don’t have to do that. Get some more sleep or take a shower.”

  “There’s no way I can go back to sleep, Roan.” She pushed her legs over the side of the bed. “But I can use some coffee and I probably need to get to work.”

  “Do you really want to go back to the morgue today?”

  Her face looked stricken for a moment. “No, but I refuse to let anyone drive me away from my job. I have to face it sometime.”

  He admired her courage. “Then let me drive you. We’ll pick up coffee on the way to the hospital.”

  She agreed, and he reluctantly stepped back into the living room while she dressed. If he didn’t, he’d forget the case, take her back to bed and chase her nightmares away with the hot pleasure of sex.

  But Megan deserved better than that, so he fortified his resolve to keep his hands off her, then phoned Lieutenant Hoberman to request the crime team.

  * * *

  MEGAN WAS SURPRISED to find the chief ME, Dr. Mantle, waiting in her office when she arrived. He didn’t look happy.

  His round face was red with anger, his eyes bulging behind his bifocals. “Megan, what in the hell is going on?”

  Megan folded her arms in a defensive gesture. She’d never seen him so furious. “What are you talking about?”

  He motioned for her to shut her office door, and she did, her nerves on edge. What had she done wrong?

  “Dr. Cumberland’s wife called me upset. She thinks you’re trying to ruin her husband’s reputation before he retires.”

  Megan shifted, choosing her words carefully. “She also called me, Dr. Mantle, but I assure you I’m not out to hurt Dr. Cumberland. I admire his work and know how much he cares about his patients.”

  “But you questioned the autopsy results and went behind his back and had samples retested.”

  Megan sucked in a sharp breath. “First of all, I was just doing my job. When I first read the report, I noticed something odd about the tox screen. I mentioned it to Dr. Cumberland and he acted like I’d made a mistake, then he showed me a contradictory report that had been sent to his office.”

  Dr. Mantle ran a hand over his balding head. “So there was a mix-up in the reports?”

  “That’s what he said,” Megan replied. “But with contradictory tox screens, I had to run another test to make sure.”

  “And you did?”

  “Yes, with another sample I preserved.” She paused. “Isn’t that what you would have done?”

  He removed his glasses, rubbed at his eyes, then put them back on his face and adjusted them.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Megan pressed.

  He coughed, obviously stalling. “Yes, I guess I would. But Dr. Cumberland says you implied that he was incompetent.”

  “Oh, my God,” Megan said. “That’s not true. I respect him. I’m not sure exactly what happened with those two reports, but I couldn’t be satisfied without verification.”

  “Why was it so important to you?”

  “Because the tox report indicated that Joe McCullen was poisoned.”

  His eyes widened beneath his glasses. “You’re saying he was murdered?”

  “That’s what the report indicates. And,” she said, her voice raw with memories of her attack, “last night someone knocked me unconscious, put me in one of the body drawers and warned me that if I didn’t stop asking questions about McCullen’s death, that he’d kill me.”

  Dr. Mantle staggered backward against the desk. “You’re serious?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about this. I’ve already talked to the deputy sheriff. He’s investigating Mr. McCullen’s murder. But this is strictly confidential. He hasn’t told the McCullen sons yet.”

  “Oh, Megan. No wonder the Cumberlands are upset.” He wheezed a breath. “You’re good, I admit that. And I appreciate your initiative. But you are not to disparage Dr. Cumberland in any way. I don’t want this office liable, and I certainly don’t want you to ruin that nice man’s reputation just as he’s close to retirement.”

  Megan bit her tongue to stifle a sharp retort. Wasn’t the truth more important than the man’s reputation?

  “Besides, Dr. Cumberland was Joe McCullen’s friend. I’m sure if anyone wants the truth it’s him.”

  Megan nodded, although if that was true, why not thank her instead of sending her boss to ream her out?

  * * *

  MADDOX WONDERED HOW Megan was handling going back into the morgue after her close call the night before. She was strong and tough, but that experience would have shaken anyone.

  He pulled down the drive to the ranch house, morning sunlight dotting the green pastures and hills with golden light. The rain the night before left droplets on the leaves and grass that fell as the wind shook the limbs.

  Although even with the beauty of their land, the McCullens had trouble.

  He parked and jogged up the steps to the porch. Mama Mary met him, wringing her hands together. “Thanks for coming, Deputy Whitefeather. I didn’t
want to bother the boys with this, not when they’re all worried about Maddox.”

  “I understand. But you will have to tell them.” Just like he had to tell them about their father. And soon.

  “Is anything missing?” Roan asked.

  Mama Mary led him inside. “Not that I can tell, but Maddox will have to look in the office and safe to make sure.”

  They crossed the entryway into the office. He scanned the room, noting the papers scattered around, the open desk drawers, the wall of family photos...

  “I didn’t touch anything,” Mama Mary said.

  Roan yanked on a pair of latex gloves. “Do you mind if I look around?”

  “Of course not. I just don’t understand who’s doing this. Who set those fires. It has to stop.”

  “Don’t worry,” Roan assured her. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Thank goodness you’re here.” She yawned and rubbed her head with her fingers. “I think I may have to lie down a bit.”

  The poor woman had been up all night. “Get some rest. I’ll let the crime team in and we’ll lock up when we leave.”

  She thanked him, then shuffled from the room.

  Roan began to comb through the office. The files on the desk included records of cattle sales, horses that had been bought, expense reports and a business plan the brothers must have put together for further expansion.

  He searched the desk drawers and found other information related to the ranch’s operation. But wedged between the wooden bottom of the drawer and a corner, he felt the edge of something stuck.

  Curious, he yanked at it and realized it was a business card. He pulled it free and skimmed the card.

  Barry Buchanan, Private Investigator.

  He frowned, wondering if the man worked for the McCullen brothers—or if he’d worked for Joe.

  He entered the PI’s number in his phone. There was one way to find out.

  His thoughts took a dark turn. What if Joe had suspected that someone wanted him dead?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Roan punched the number for the private investigator, Barry Buchanan. The phone trilled three times before a woman answered.

  “Hello.”

  He’d expected a business greeting. Did he have the right number? “This is Deputy Roan Whitefeather from Pistol Whip. I’m calling for Mr. Buchanan. Who am I speaking with?”

  “His wife, Carrie.”

  “I see. Is the number for his private investigating firm?”

  “Yes, but his business is closed,” the woman said tersely. “I can refer you to another agency.”

  “No, I don’t need a reference. I wanted to speak to him personally. Is there another number where I can reach him?”

  A long awkward pause followed. “I’m afraid not. My husband died two weeks ago.”

  Roan tensed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

  “A car accident, or at least that’s what the sheriff said.”

  Suspicion laced her voice, making him more curious. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You don’t believe it was an accident?”

  Another pause. “No. The sheriff said Barry’s brakes failed, but my husband was a stickler for keeping his car in tip-top shape. His father owned an auto shop and he worked for him for years.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I think someone tampered with his brakes.”

  Roan tensed. “Did Mr. Buchanan have any enemies?”

  “My husband was a private investigator, Deputy Whitefeather. Of course he ticked off some deadbeat cheating husbands and wives. And that’s only a few of the cases he worked on.”

  “You think one of the cases he investigated got him killed?”

  “That’s exactly what I think. Although the sheriff here doesn’t agree.”

  Under the circumstances, Roan had to take her seriously.

  “Why are you interested in my husband’s business?” she asked.

  The CSI van rolled down the driveway, and Roan acknowledged them with a flick of his hand. “I thought your husband might have worked for a murder victim I’m investigating.”

  “Well, I don’t know details about Barry’s cases. And he never told me his clients’ names.”

  “Would you mind if I stop by his office and look at his files?”

  Her breath hitched. “I guess not. That is, if you’ll do me a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “If you find something suspicious, someone who held a grudge against Barry enough to kill him, you’ll let me know.”

  “I promise I will, ma’am.”

  She agreed to meet him after lunch, and he hung up and went to greet the CSI team.

  * * *

  WITH NO AUTOPSIES to perform, the morgue was eerily quiet. A fact that only reminded Megan of the night before and that someone had nearly killed her.

  She made a phone call to follow up on Tad Hummings’s brother and spoke to the prosecutor who’d tried the man’s case. His name was Gerard, and she admired and respected his opinion.

  “There were witnesses, the evidence was clear. You didn’t make a mistake, Megan.”

  “Has his brother been a problem?” Megan asked.

  “His brother is a mean drunk, but he’s also a coward. He doesn’t have the guts to follow through on anything. He’s just a bully who likes to throw his weight around.”

  He had plenty of that—he must have weighed 275.

  “Do you want to file a complaint against him?”

  “No,” Megan said. “I just...wanted to make sure he wasn’t dangerous.”

  His breath echoed over the line. “You’re not telling me something, Megan. What’s wrong?”

  There was a lot she wasn’t telling him, but she didn’t feel like spilling her guts now. Especially with no proof. “It’s nothing, Gerard. It’s just that...well, the day after I ran into him, I was in a crowd and I thought someone pushed me into the street. But I probably just stumbled.”

  “What the hell, Megan? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I told the deputy sheriff in Pistol Whip,” she said. “So no need to call in the cavalry.”

  “Just to be on the safe side, let me check up on the brother. What day did this incident in the street happen?”

  Megan gave him the date and time. A second later, Gerard cleared his throat.

  “Megan, Hummings didn’t push you. He couldn’t have.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He was arrested on a DUI the night before and spent the next two days in jail before he made bail.”

  Megan went still. If Hummings hadn’t pushed her, then someone else may have. An eerie chill swept over her. Maybe the same person who’d attacked her last night...

  * * *

  MADDOX MET LIEUTENANT HOBERMAN back inside the ranch house’s office. “Did you find anything?”

  “A few prints, but considering the fact that the sheriff and his brothers probably all use this office, I’ll have to run a comparison.”

  Roan showed him the private investigator’s business card. “Mama Mary had no idea what the intruder was looking for, but I found this PI’s card. I called the number to see if he was working for Joe, but his wife answered and said he’s dead.”

  “You think they’re connected?”

  “It’s possible. I think it’s time to talk to Maddox.” His keys jangled in his hand. “I’m going to the hospital to question Romley, then I’ll drop in on Maddox.”

  Hoberman agreed to let him know as soon as he found anything, and then Roan drove to the hospital. A guard stood at the man’s hospital room door, so Roan identified himself.

  “You can take a break and grab some coffee or a bite to eat if you want.”

  The guard nodded, then walked down the hall, and Roan let himself inside Romley’s room. The man was hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. Bandages wound around his thigh and shoulder. His face was pale, dirty-blond hair disheveled, eyes closed.

 
; Roan didn’t bother to try to be quiet. His boots pounded the floor as he crossed the room. Romley opened one eye, anger glinting. “I’m not in the mood to talk, just in case you’re wondering.”

  “You shot the sheriff,” Roan said. “If you want leniency on that charge, you’d better get in the mood.”

  Romley groaned as he tried to sit up in the bed. “I need a lawyer.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Roan said. “And I need some answers.”

  “I got rights,” Romley said in a low growl. “That means I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “No, you don’t,” Roan said. “But as I mentioned, if you want leniency you should cooperate.” He crossed his arms and glared down at the man. “Did you set those fires at Horseshoe Creek?”

  Romley rubbed at his leg. “I talk, you gonna cut me a deal?”

  “That depends on what you have to say.”

  Romley twisted his mouth into a grimace. “I shot the sheriff in self-defense.”

  Roan laughed. “Nice try, but that’s not gonna fly. You had a warrant out for you. You ran, then resisted arrest.” He made a clicking sound with his mouth. “You’re racking up the charges.”

  Romley rubbed at the bandage again. “Gates hired me and Hardwick to keep an eye on Horseshoe Creek’s operation and report back what the McCullen men were doing.”

  “So you reported that Brett was building his equine operation. Adding barns and stock.”

  Romley nodded.

  “Then what?”

  “Then...hell, he told me to do something about it.”

  “Gates paid you to set the fires?”

  Romley shrugged, then winced as if the movement caused him pain. “He said there’d be a big bonus if I slowed down their progress.”

  “So it was your idea to set the fires?”

  Romley looked away. “I needed the money.”

  “You needed money bad enough to commit arson? What if someone had been inside those barns or the house? You could have killed one of the McCullens or their housekeeper.”

  “No one was supposed to be home that night,” Romley said.

  “But they were,” Roan said. “And what about those horses? How inhumane are you?”

  “I only set fire to the empty one.” Romley’s tone grew defensive. “I figured the McCullens would put it out before it spread and no one would be hurt. The financial damage would have set them back, that’s all.”