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
