Redemption At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

her tone.

      “I don’t know if you’re staying around here,” Mrs. Lynch continued, “but if you are, keep away from my son. He doesn’t need any trouble.”

      “I’m not here to cause trouble,” Honey said, her voice firm. “I—”

      “Then get your sorry daddy buried and leave town,” Mrs. Lynch barked. “Tumbleweed is better off without any of you Grangers.”

      Hurt and anger bled through Honey. She wanted to defend her father and herself.

      But an image of that yellow ribbon taunted her, and she kept her mouth shut.

      When word about that surfaced, people would definitely condemn her father.

      It shouldn’t bother her. He had been a sorry drunk.

      Elden’s mother didn’t have to worry about her staying. She’d leave as soon as possible.

      * * *

      “MOTHER,” HARRISON SAID, measuring his words carefully, “I wouldn’t go around telling everyone how glad you are that Waylon Granger is dead.”

      She gave him a sharp look. “Why not? I am glad he’s dead.”

      “He was murdered,” Harrison said, hoping to drive home his point. “That means there has to be an investigation.”

      Brayden’s lawyer instincts quickly kicked in. “He’s warning you not to incriminate yourself, Mother.”

      She finished her wine then set the glass on the table with an eyebrow raise. “And you’re the sheriff so you’re going to find out who killed him?”

      Harrison nodded. “That’s the way it works.”

      “How was he murdered?” Dexter asked.

      Harrison wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I don’t have an official statement from the ME, but it appears he was struck on the back of the head with a rock, then pushed over the edge of the ridge.”

      Other than his mother’s eyes widening slightly, she showed no reaction.

      “You find any forensics?” Lucas asked.

      Harrison maintained a neutral expression. “I found a rock that might be the one that struck him. It’s at the lab now, being tested.”

      “Anything else?” Brayden asked.

      “CSI found a button in the bushes and a short brown hair that was caught on Granger.”

      “The teenagers still go up there,” his mother said, ignoring the comment about the brown hair. “That button could be one of theirs.”

      Harrison narrowed his eyes. Was his mother trying to cover for herself? “True. But it was close to the ledge, so we’ll test it for prints.”

      She tore a roll in half and buttered it.

      “Mother, where were you last night?”

      Brayden laid his hand over their mother’s. “You don’t have to answer that.”

      “Are you asking as my son or as the sheriff?” his mother said quietly.

      Emotions clogged Harrison’s throat at the hurt in his mother’s voice. Her screams the night Chrissy went missing echoed in his head, resurrecting guilt and anguish.

      How could he interrogate his own mother after what he’d put her through?

      She squeezed Brayden’s hand. “It’s all right, Brayden. Actually I don’t mind answering. I was home all night.”

      Brayden’s eyes went dark. “Was anyone here with you, Mother? Anyone who can corroborate your story?”

      She stiffened. “It’s not a story, it’s the truth. And no one was here. I had one of my migraines so I took a pill and went to bed early.”

      “How about phone calls?” Harrison asked.

      She sighed. “Like I said, I took a pill and went to bed early. If the phone rang, I didn’t hear it.”

      Harrison raked a hand through his hair. Dammit, he wanted her to have a rock-solid alibi.

      “I’m not the only one who disliked Waylon Granger,” his mother said.

      “But no one else had a motive to kill him,” Harrison pointed out.

      “Harrison,” Lucas cut in, his voice hard. “You’re not accusing Mom of murder, are you?”

      Harrison folded his arms. “No, but it’s my job to ask questions and find out the truth.”

      “The truth is that the town is better off without that lowlife in it,” his mother said curtly.

      “We have no proof that he hurt anyone,” Harrison said, testing the waters to see if one of his family members mentioned the ribbon.

      “He hurt his own daughter,” Dexter said. “Everyone in Tumbleweed knew that but no one did anything to help her.”

      Dexter was right. Someone should have stepped in and protected Honey.

      “That girl wasn’t worth saving,” his mother said. “She was white trash just like her mama.”

      “She was only a kid.” A trace of bitterness laced his voice. “She never did anything wrong.”

      “My God, you’re defending her.” His mother gave him a lethal look. “She probably lied about that night, Harrison. Chrissy always tried to sneak over and see that girl. I bet she did that night but Honey lied to protect her old man.”