Читать книгу Warrior Son - Rita Herron - Страница 8
ОглавлениеMegan’s words reverberated in Roan’s ears. Joe McCullen was murdered.
“How?”
“Poison. Cyanide.”
“Are you sure?”
Megan winced. “Not exactly, but—”
“But what?” He leaned across the table, speaking in a hushed tone. “Why did you come to me if you don’t know?”
She fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it back in that bun. He wanted to unknot it and run his fingers through it.
But he had to focus.
“I know what I saw in that initial report. But Dr. Cumberland made me question my results and ran it again. That’s when it came back normal.”
“So you have one bad test and one normal one?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
She fidgeted with her little round glasses, pushing them up on her nose. “I talked to the lab tech and he’s meticulous with details. He didn’t think he mixed up the reports like Dr. Cumberland said.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Roan said.
“I know.” Megan took a sip of her wine. “But I’ve seen this guy’s work. He’s OCD. He checks things at least three times.”
Roan didn’t know how to respond.
If Megan was right, that meant Joe had been murdered.
But they couldn’t make accusations without something more concrete. That would only cause more trouble for the McCullens.
If she was right, though, then someone had gotten away with killing Joe—his father. And he couldn’t let that happen.
“Anyway, I talked to the lab tech,” Megan said. “I preserved a sample and he’s going to retest it.”
Roan gave a clipped nod. “When will you have the results?”
“Probably tomorrow. I asked him to keep it quiet.”
“Good.” His gaze met hers. “Don’t tell anyone else about this, Megan. You don’t want to create panic if there’s nothing to it.”
A wary look flashed in those dark brown eyes. “Of course I won’t say anything. But if it’s true, someone needs to find out who poisoned Joe McCullen.”
“And how they did it,” Roan muttered. “It would have been difficult with Dr. Cumberland monitoring his health.” And there was no way he could accuse the good doctor of foul play. Roan knew Cumberland personally. He was the most compassionate man Roan had ever met. He’d donated time to the res when they needed a Western doctor.
He’d even treated Roan’s mother. For God’s sake, he’d held her hand and comforted her before she passed.
But Joe could have had visitors. Someone could have slipped something to him when nobody was watching.
“What if Barbara or her son, Bobby, did it?” Megan said. “You know Barbara got tired of waiting on Joe to marry her. Maybe she decided to kill him and get what was owed her.”
Roan frowned. “True. But if he was sick anyway, why kill him? Why not wait until the disease got the best of him?”
* * *
MEGAN CONSIDERED ROAN’S STATEMENT. Why would someone go to the trouble to kill a man who was already dying?
“Megan?”
His gruff voice always turned her inside out. When she looked up at him, he was watching her with an intensity that sent a tingle through her.
“I don’t know.” Barbara and Bobby resented the fact that Joe kept them a secret. Part of her understood their animosity. “Maybe Barbara knew that Joe had included her in the will. But what if he’d decided to change it recently? Maybe he was going to cut them out for some reason.”
“And one or both of them decided to kill him before he could,” Roan finished.
She nodded. “That would make sense.”
Roan’s wide jaw snapped tight. “If that’s the case, I need proof. I doubt either one of the Lowmans are going to cop to murder.”
She doubted that, too. “What’s our next move?”
Roan’s gaze met hers. “We don’t have a next move, Megan. If you go around making accusations, you could get hurt.”
Megan drummed her fingers on the table. She noticed Roan watching and realized how desperately she needed a manicure—the chemicals she worked with at the morgue were hell on her nails and skin—so she curled her fingers into her palms.
Still the questions she’d had since she’d first suspected poison in Joe’s tox report nagged at her. She wasn’t some delicate princess type who ran from trouble. When she had questions, she sought answers. It was the nature of being a scientist and doctor. “But I can’t let this go, Roan.”
Roan laid one big hand on top of both of hers. “Listen to me. I’m the lawman. First things first. Get that report, then call me with the results. If you confirm poison, I’ll investigate.”
Memories of him intimately touching her flooded her as she stared at their fingers. She wanted to relive that night. At least one more time.
But Roan quickly pulled his hand away, his jaw set hard again, his high cheekbones accentuated by the way his hair was pulled back in a leather tie. The only time he’d ever let down his guard was the night his mother died.
He obviously regretted doing it then.
But at least he hadn’t thought she was crazy. If that report confirmed what she suspected, he’d investigate.
She’d have to be satisfied with that for now.
* * *
ROAN TRIED TO shake off the ridiculous need to fold Megan in his arms and ask her to go home with him. He could use the sweet release of a hot night in bed with her again.
But one look into that vulnerable face and he knew that would be a mistake. Megan was not a one night stand kind of girl.
Which made it even more awkward that he’d used her for comfort the night his mother died and never contacted her again.
She knew what she was getting into. She’s a big girl.
Only she wasn’t like the other women he knew. She was smart, curious, a problem solver.
And she had no idea how beautiful she was.
But her words disturbed him. She thought Joe was murdered. And she hadn’t just offered some harebrained reason. She had offered a believable motive.
One he would investigate. On his own.
He didn’t want her near him. She was too damn tempting.
Worse, asking questions could be dangerous.
He tossed some bills on the table to pay for the drink. “Like I said, call me when you get the results of that tox screen.”
He stood, tipped his Stetson and strode through the busy bar. Music rocked the establishment, laughter and chatter filling the air. Men and women came here to unwind and hook up.
But he ignored the interested females and strode outside. His mind was already ticking away what he needed to do.
He and Maddox were still trying to figure out who set those fires. Could the same person have murdered Joe?
And then there was Barbara and Bobby Lowman...
Megan’s comment about the will made him reach for his phone. He climbed in his SUV and punched Darren Bush’s number, but received the lawyer’s voice mail. “It’s Deputy Whitefeather,” he said. “Please call me as soon as possible.”
He might be jumping the gun, but he’d drive out to the Lowmans’ house tonight and take a look around.
* * *
MEGAN WATCHED ROAN leave with mixed emotions. She was relieved he’d taken her concerns seriously.
But disappointed that he didn’t hint at wanting a personal relationship.
She blinked back tears. Good grief. She wasn’t a crier. She’d learned long ago not to let rejection destroy her. Like her father said, she had brains and she’d use them to survive.
In fact, it was better she wasn’t gorgeous like her sister. The cops suspected Shelly was targeted by the man who’d killed her because of her looks. Even their mother had been model pretty.
But she’d never gotten over Shelly’s death and had eventually committed suicide as if Megan wasn’t enough to fill the void Shelly had left.
As if she was the daughter who should have died instead of Shelly.
Bile rose to her throat at the memories, and she pushed her wine aside, then headed to the door. She elbowed her way through the crowd, ignoring catcalls from drunk cowboys as she stepped outside.
One beefy man in a big black hat grabbed her arm. “What’s your hurry? Let your hair down and we could have a lot of fun.”
She glared at him with her best “get lost” look. “Sorry, mister. Not interested.”
His fingers tightened around her arm. “Hey, don’t I know you? You’re that medical examiner who sent my brother to jail.”
She arched a brow, struggling to recall the details. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t remember? You said my brother killed this drifter and he’s locked up now ’cause of you.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. His tone reeked of bitterness. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family,” she said. “But I was just doing my job.”
“Well, you were wrong, lady. My brother didn’t kill no one.”
Megan forced herself to remain calm. “I file a report based on scientific evidence I find in the autopsy. The rest is up to the law and a jury.” She yanked her arm away, then took a deep breath. “Now, good night.”
He muttered a profanity as she brushed him out of the way and walked to her car. Gravel crunched beneath her boots, and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the jerk wasn’t following.
Keys already in hand, she pressed the unlock button on the key fob and slid into the driver’s seat of her van. She liked driving something with room enough to carry her medical bag and a change of clothes when she worked all night.
The engine chugged to life, and she checked her rearview mirror. The man had followed her outside and was glaring at her as she disappeared.
Nerves knotted her stomach. He’d said she was wrong about his brother. Had she been wrong?
Everyone made mistakes. But she was careful about her reports.
Although sometimes her curiosity got the better of her—like now?
Was she looking for trouble regarding Joe McCullen’s death when there hadn’t been foul play?
* * *
ROAN PULLED INTO the driveway of Barbara’s house, noting that most of the lights were off in the neighborhood. Barbara’s house was dark, vacant now that she and her son were incarcerated.
He cut the lights, then glanced around the property, hoping not to alert anyone that he was nosing around. Maddox would probably be ticked off if he knew Roan was here, that he hadn’t told him about his conversation with Megan.
But there was no need in stirring up Maddox’s emotions over questions about his father’s death unless he had some concrete evidence that Joe had been murdered.
He grabbed his flashlight and walked around to the rear, then checked the back door. He picked the lock and slipped inside. The house smelled of mildew, stale cigarette smoke and beer.
He shined the light through the kitchen, expecting to see dirty dishes, but the sink was empty and, except for a few empty beer bottles, the counter was free of clutter.
Remembering that he was searching for poison, he opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. A milk carton, juice, soda, a head of wilted lettuce, carton of eggs, yogurt. He opened the milk and gagged at the sour smell.
But he saw nothing inside that looked like poison.
Next he checked the cabinets, searching below the sink, and found household cleaners, some of which were poisonous, but was it the poison that had allegedly killed Joe?
He quickly cataloged the contents of the cabinet, then searched the living room, the closet, bedrooms and bathrooms. More cleaner in the bathroom, but nothing suspicious per se.
Of course Barbara could easily have had time to dispose of the poison.
Although in light of the fact that no one had questioned Joe’s cause of death, she might not have bothered. Some people were cocky enough to think they’d never get caught.
Working on that theory, he checked the bathroom garbage cans, then the kitchen. Beer cans, an empty pizza box, other assorted trash.
Frustrated, he eased out the back door and checked the outside garbage can. Only one bag of garbage, which surprised him, but before he went through it, he noticed the storage shed behind the house.
Sensing he was on to something, he picked the lock on the shed. When he opened it, he shined his flashlight across the interior and noticed several bags of potting soil, planters and gardening tools.
A storage bin sat to the right, and he lifted the lid and illuminated it with the flashlight beam.
Fertilizer.
His pulse hammered as past cases of poisoning played in his head. Fertilizers contained cyanide.
