Warrior Son. Rita Herron

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.

       Chapter Three

      Roan snapped pictures of the fertilizer bags and other assorted chemicals inside the shed, but he was careful not to touch anything. If they learned that Joe McCullen was murdered, he’d have to go by the book and gather evidence.

      But the fact that Barbara had products containing cyanide definitely put her on his suspect list.

      He had no idea how she got the poison into Joe, though. Had she laced food or a drink with it? That would be the most common or easiest way.

      If so, that meant she had to have had access to him, had to have visited him.

      Maddox might know. But Roan wasn’t ready to discuss the situation with him.

      He noted a pair of gardening gloves, then a box of disposable latex gloves and took a picture of the box. A lot of people bought those disposable gloves for cleaning, but Barbara could have used them when preparing whatever concoction she’d used to hide the cyanide.

      He was jumping to conclusions, he realized. Just because