by Jenna Kernan
Or would he have hidden him away like he had his other illegitimate son Bobby Lowman?
The wind blew the trees rustling the leaves, and he scanned the horizon again. The ranch spread for hundreds of miles, livestock and horses roaming the pastures. Joe McCullen had definitely built a legacy here for his sons. And although Ray and Brett had been gone for years, they’d recently returned and planned to help Maddox run the ranch.
Someone didn’t want the McCullens to thrive, though. Someone who might have a grudge against Joe besides his mistress and son, Bobby. For all he knew, the problems could be about the land or the way Joe did business.
Hell, if Maddox, Brett or Ray knew Roan was blood related, they might accuse him of sabotage.
All the more reason to keep quiet about who he was.
And all the more reason to keep his questions about Joe’s death to himself until he found out if there was any substance to his suspicions.
* * *
DR. MEGAN LAIL finished her autopsy report on a man named Morty Burns, a ranch hand who’d been shot and left dead outside Pistol Whip, Wyoming. So far, the police had no idea who’d shot him, but she’d done her job—established time and cause of death and recovered the bullet that had taken the man’s life.
She had been infatuated with dead bodies since her sister’s murder. Not that she enjoyed the morbid side of death, but the bodies told the story.
Just as she’d been driven to know who killed Shelly, family members deserved to know the answers about their loved ones. And it was comforting to know she could help give them closure.
Still, her father had been disappointed in her. He’d raved about Shelly and her beauty, constantly reminding Megan that she hadn’t been graced with extraordinary looks, that she had to use her brain to get anywhere in life. She hadn’t minded that at all. Science had always interested her.
When Shelly had been killed and investigators had converged, she’d realized that the medical examiner was the one who’d discovered the clue that led to the culprit. Sitting at the trial with her father, she’d decided she wanted to be an ME.
She removed her gloves, filed her report, then clicked to the news and studied the story about the recent arrest of Bobby and Barbara Lowman made by Deputy Roan Whitefeather and the sheriff. The arrests had hit big in Pistol Whip because they centered around the McCullens of Horseshoe Creek and revealed that the patriarch of the family, Joe, who had recently died, had another family on the side.
A mistress named Barbara and an illegitimate son, Bobby.
Bobby had resented Joe for years, and his mother Barbara felt betrayed because Joe never married her. They’d also been upset over the stipulations Joe placed on the will regarding Bobby’s inheritance, that Bobby would have to work under the tutelage of Maddox.
They’d pulled a gun on Scarlet and threatened the family, and both were in prison. But neither admitted to setting the two fires on the ranch, one of which had ruined the family’s long-standing home.
More details followed in the article.
Former rodeo star Brett McCullen has offered a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the arsonist.
Megan massaged her temple as her mind took a leap. Something had been bothering her about Joe McCullen’s autopsy.
Her curious nature, the attribute that helped her most in her job, pummeled her with what-ifs. What if Joe’s death hadn’t been due to his illness?
She’d detected something odd about the tox screen and relayed her concerns to Dr. Cumberland, the McCullens’ family doctor and Joe’s lifelong friend.
The conversation replayed in her head.
“You’re young and new to this, Megan. You obviously made a mistake,” Dr. Cumberland had said. “I took care of Joe during his illness. He had emphysema. Just look at his X-rays and scans.”
She’d looked at them and Joe had in fact had emphysema. “But there are slight traces of a toxin indicating he was poisoned. It appears to be cyanide.”
Dr. Cumberland had scanned her notes and scowled. “Run the tests again. This can’t be right.”
Megan had gone to the lab, extracted another sample and sent it to be tested. An hour later, Dr. Cumberland had hand delivered the report to her.
“See, there is no sign of poison. The lab tech mixed up the reports. The result you first received was for another case.”
Yet the fact that someone was trying to hurt the McCullens bothered her. She was meticulous in her work and never made mistakes.
And she couldn’t let this go without one more look. Adrenaline pumping, she accessed the autopsy file. Guilt nagged at her for questioning Dr. Cumberland, though.
The family physician had worked in Pistol Whip for years. Everyone in town adored him. For goodness’ sake, he’d delivered half the town’s babies, including the McCullen boys, Maddox, Brett and Ray.
And he had been distraught over Joe’s death.
He wouldn’t have had any reason to lie to her or cover up a tox report.
But...something just didn’t feel right. She didn’t think she’d made a mistake...
She picked up the phone and called the lab tech, a young guy named Howard, then explained about the two different results.
“I guess it’s possible that I mixed them up,” Howard said. “But I double-check everything. I’m OCD that way.”
So was she. In their line of work, details were important.
Howard cleared his throat. “If you still have a sample I can retest.”
Megan’s pulse hammered. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll send it over right now, Howard. But please keep this between you and me.”
“Sure, Megan. What’s going on?”
“I just want to double-check for myself.”
He agreed to call her when he was done, and she decided she’d talk to Deputy Whitefeather while she waited on the results. He would know if Joe had any enemies.
She didn’t want to bother Joe’s sons unless she had something concrete.
The thought of seeing the deputy again stirred a hot sensation deep in her belly. She’d met Roan when he worked on the res on the tribal council.
When his mother died, she’d performed the autopsy. Roan had been devastated. His mother was all the family he had.
She’d hated to see the big, strong man in pain. A comforting hug had led to a kiss. A kiss filled with such loneliness that she hadn’t been able to resist. They’d made love for hours.
Sometimes at night when she was alone, she closed her eyes and could still feel his big, strong hands touching her, stroking her, loving her. She’d never felt anything so intense.
But the next morning, he’d walked away from her and hadn’t spoken to her since.
What would he say if she showed up with questions about Joe McCullen’s death?
* * *
ROAN CONGRATULATED THE happy couple before he drove back to the cabin he’d rented on the river. He missed the res, but working for the sheriff’s department meant he worked for all the people in Pistol Whip and the county it encompassed, so living in a neutral, more central location seemed wisest.
“Did you see anything suspicious tonight?” Maddox asked as they watched Scarlet toss the bouquet.
“No. I’ll ride across the property on my way home and take a look around, though.”
“Thanks.” Maddox shook his hand. “I appreciate you covering the office while Rose and I were gone. Brett said he was going to hire extra security for the ranch for a while, at least until we find out who set those fires. He’s rebuilding the barns and the main house is already done.”
“Extra security is not a bad idea,” Roan said. Maddox, Brett and Ray couldn’t keep up the ranch and do surveillance around the clock by themselves.
After all, on a spread this size,
there were dozens of places for someone to hide.
Some blonde caught the bouquet, prompting squeals from the guests, and Maddox joined his wife on the dance floor.
Roan leaned against the edge of the makeshift bar they’d set up for the reception, his mouth watering for a cold beer. But he didn’t drink on the job.
The McCullen men danced and swayed with their wives, and for some odd reason, a pang hit him. They looked so damn happy.
They were family.
Something he didn’t have anymore.
Yet...they were his blood kin.
It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to tell them.
Hell, they’d probably think he was like Bobby Lowman, that he wanted something from them.
He wanted nothing but to live in peace. Caring about folks meant pain when they went away.
His mother’s face flashed in his mind. Truth be known, she was the only person in the world he’d ever loved.
His phone buzzed, and he checked the number, surprised to see Dr. Megan Lail’s name appear. Damn, he hadn’t seen her since last year, the night his mother died.
Since the night they’d...gotten hot and sweaty between the sheets.
Perspiration broke out on his brow and he swiped at it. It was the most erotic sex he’d ever had. For months he’d dreamed about it, woken up to an image of Megan’s breasts swaying above him as she impaled herself on his shaft. Of him pumping inside her, of her ivory skin blushing with passion and her soft moans of ecstasy filling the air.
The phone jarred him again, and he cursed and stepped aside, away from the festivities so he could hear. She was the ME, after all. She might have news about a case.
“Deputy Whitefeather.”
“Roan, it’s Dr. Lail. Megan.”
The sound of her husky voice triggered more memories of their lovemaking and made his body go rock hard.
He kept his reply short, afraid he’d give away the yearning in his voice if he said too much. “Yeah?”
“I need to see you.”
His breath stalled in his chest. She needed him? Instantly his thoughts turned to worry. What if the damn condoms hadn’t worked that night? They’d made love—how many times?
“Megan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said softly, arousing tender feelings inside him. Feelings he didn’t want to have.
“Then why did you call?”
Her sharp intake indicated he’d been brusque.
“I’m sorry, if this is a bad time, I can call back.”
Now he had to know the reason for her call. “No, it’s fine. I’m standing guard at Ray McCullen’s wedding in case that arsonist strikes again.”
“That’s sort of the reason I called.”
He frowned, his gaze piercing the night as he pivoted to scan the pastures. “Do you have information that could help?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I had some questions about Joe McCullen’s autopsy.”
Roan went completely still. “What kind of questions?”
“I don’t feel comfortable discussing it over the phone. Can we meet?”
An image of her unruly, long wavy hair surfaced. Although she usually wore it in a tight bun, the moment he’d yanked that bun free, he’d unleashed some kind of sexual animal that she kept hidden from the world.
Seeing her was not a good idea.
“Please,” she said. “It’s important. And...you’re the only one I trust.”
Damn, did she have to put it that way?
“All right. Where are you?”
“I’m still at the morgue. But I’d prefer to meet you somewhere else.”
He could go to her place. But that would be too personal. Too tempting.
“I’ll be done soon. How about we meet at The Silver Bullet in an hour?”
She agreed and hung up. For the next hour, Roan watched the celebration wind down. The happy couple kissed and said goodbye as they rushed to the limo Ray had rented. They were headed to the airport to fly to Mexico for their honeymoon.
He left the security team Brett had hired to watch over the ranch, took a quick drive across the property, looking for any stray vehicle or a fire, but all seemed quiet.
By the time he reached The Silver Bullet, he was sweating just thinking about seeing Megan again. He spotted her in a booth to the side when he entered. Country music blared from the speakers, smoke clogged the room and footsteps pounded from the line dance on the dance floor.
Megan looked up at him, one hand clenching a wineglass, her eyes worried. He ordered a beer and joined her. She’d secured her hair in that bun again, she wore no makeup and her clothes were nondescript. Once again it struck him that she downplayed her looks. He wondered why.
She could wear a damn feed sack and she’d still be the prettiest girl he’d ever met. And he knew what she looked like with that hair down, her body naked, her lips trailing kisses down his chest.
“Megan,” he said as he slipped into the booth across from her.
“Thank you for coming.” She licked her lips, drawing his eyes to her mouth. He took a sip of beer to stall and wrangle his libido.
“You said it was important.” Please spit it out so I can go home and forget about you.
Not that he ever had. But he was trying.
“Roan, I may be jumping the gun, but I had to talk to someone about this.”
The worry in her voice sounded serious. He straightened. “What is it?”
She looked down in her glass. “When I performed Joe McCullen’s autopsy the first time, I...thought I saw something suspicious in his tox report.”
Roan’s heart jumped.
“With all that’s happened at Horseshoe Creek recently,” Megan continued, “and with that Lowman woman and her son, and those fires...it made me think of that report.”
“I don’t understand,” Roan said. “What was it that bothered you?”
She inhaled a deep breath, then glanced around the room warily, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation. His instincts roared to life. She’d said she didn’t feel comfortable talking on the phone.
“Megan, tell me,” he said.
“I don’t think Joe McCullen died of natural causes.” She leaned closer, her voice low. “I think he was murdered.”
Copyright © 2016 by Rita B. Herron
ISBN-13: 9781488005633
Native Born
Copyright © 2016 by Jeannette H. Monaco
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