Warrior Son. Rita Herron

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Warrior Son - Rita  Herron

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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 Barbara had motive didn’t mean she was the only one who wanted Joe dead.

      Arlis Bennett at the Circle T was suspected of hiring someone to set the fires on behalf of himself and his cousin, Boyle Gates. Gates had been furious at Maddox for arresting him for cattle rustling.

      But the timing was off. Gates hadn’t been caught until after Joe’s death.

      Although, what if Joe had figured out what Gates was doing?

      Gates could have poisoned Joe, hoping whatever Joe had on him would die with his death.

      Knowing it was too late to question either of them tonight, he mentally filed his questions for the next day.

      He locked the shed as he left, once again surveying the yard and property as he walked back to his vehicle. But as he drove away from the house, his mind turned from murder to Megan.

      Seeing her tonight had resurrected memories of the one night they’d spent together.

      How could the worst day of his life also be one of the best?

      Losing his mother had been so painful he’d allowed himself to drown his sorrows in Megan’s sweet body. Her erotic touches had assuaged his anguish and helped him forget for a moment that the only person he’d ever loved, the only person who’d ever given a damn about him, was gone.

      Forever.

      Although, maybe he’d only perceived the night with Megan was so special because he’d been in pain...

      That had to be it. If they slept together again, he’d probably be disappointed.

      Perspiration rolled down his neck as he crossed through town, then veered down the drive to his cabin and parked. He climbed out, the wind rustling the trees, the sound of a coyote echoing from somewhere nearby.

      Shoulders squared, he let himself inside the cabin, the cold empty room a reminder that he was alone.

      Sometimes, he imagined walking in and seeing Megan in his kitchen or in his den. But most often he imagined her in his bedroom.

      Waking up with Megan in his arms that night had been pure bliss. But when he’d looked at her sweet innocent face, the guilt had overwhelmed him.

      Guilt for feeling pleasure when his mother had died. Then guilt for taking advantage of Megan.

      Because he’d known that she wasn’t the type of woman to hook up on a whim. That she might perceive their night of sex as the beginning of something—maybe a long-term relationship.

      And he couldn’t go there. Couldn’t care about anyone.

      Losing them hurt too damn much.

      Just like he wouldn’t allow himself to care about the McCullens. Sure, he’d find Joe’s murderer—if he was murdered—but then he’d step away.

      And the McCullens would never know his secret.

      * * *

      THE NEXT MORNING, Megan couldn’t shake her encounter from the night before with the man outside The Silver Bullet. Pistol Whip was a small town, but she worked for the county hospital and medical examiner’s office, which covered a much larger territory.

      Her boss

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