He lost sight of Sandy near McCall’s cabin. A moment later he saw the sheriff sneaking along the side of the cabin, then disappearing around to the deck door.
Luke followed, his anxiety growing. When he heard the first shot, he took off at a run. Earlier, during their lovemaking, he’d remembered seeing the pistol he’d lent McCall beside a flowerpot on the deck.
MCCALL STARED AT GRANT, realizing he must have been the person Sandy was with that day. It seemed odd, but who else could it have been?
Grant hadn’t moved. He stood with his head down, looking sick, his weapon still dangling from his right hand.
Sandy still hadn’t realized they weren’t alone. “Your mother ruined my life when you took Trace away from me,” Sandy said. “He wouldn’t have left—if Ruby hadn’t been pregnant with you.”
McCall saw where this was going. And if Sandy and Grant had killed Trace—
The front door blew open. Grant apparently hadn’t closed it properly.
Sandy swung around and saw her husband, Grant. Her finger must have been itching on the trigger because she got off the first shot.
McCall heard the second shot as she dived for the door. A bloodcurdling scream followed the report of the gunfire. Someone groaned.
As McCall scrambled toward the front door, she saw Grant trying to get to his feet. He still had the gun in his hand. Was it possible he’d shot Sandy? Or had he been trying to hit McCall?
“Stop!” Sandy yelled. “I don’t want to shoot you in the back, but I will.”
The third bullet ricocheted off the wall next to McCall, sending splinters into the air. McCall stopped and lifted her hands as she slowly turned around to face Sandy.
Grant, she saw, had fallen back on the floor, facedown in his own blood. Sandy had his gun—and her own. Blood bloomed from her left side, but she seemed oblivious of being hit. Grant had shot her? To shut her up? Or keep her from killing McCall?
McCall glanced at Grant, watching for any sign of life. None. Meeting Sandy’s gaze, she prepared herself to meet her maker. Sandy had nothing to lose now.
She had killed Grant. Now she had to kill McCall.
There would be no suicide note. No pretend suicide.
“It’s over, Sandy,” McCall said, knowing her only chance was to try to talk the woman down. “The killing has to stop. Trace is dead. Now Grant. I don’t know what happened on that ridge all those years ago with my father, but I do know that you didn’t mean to shoot Grant and I don’t believe you would have killed Trace if it hadn’t been for Grant being on that ridge with you that day.”
Sandy began to laugh. “You aren’t as smart as Grant thought you were. Grant wasn’t with me when I killed Trace.”
“Then who...”
“I wasn’t the only one who hated Trace.” Sandy spat out the words. “It wasn’t even my idea to get him on that ridge in sight of the Winchester ranch.” She smiled at McCall’s shock. “They say blood is thicker than water.” Sandy shook her head. “Not when it comes to sibling rivalry. Trace’s own flesh and blood wanted him dead. What does that say about your father?”
“You’re lying.”
“How different it would have been if Trace had married me,” Sandy said. “He would have changed,” she said with conviction, showing just how delusional she was.
For a moment, Sandy seemed to be lost in a daydream of what her life could have been like if she’d been the one to get Trace Winchester down the aisle. Her face softened as she steadied the gun with both hands to kill McCall, her eyes moist, a smile on her lips as if seeing herself beside Trace in the small white chapel on the edge of town.
That’s how she died.
McCall would later wonder if Sandy even felt the bullet that pierced her heart. Luke’s shot had been true. He’d fired at the same time he’d thrown McCall to the side. Sandy’s shot had burrowed into McCall’s front door in the exact spot where she’d been standing just an instant before.
It had been so close that she swore she felt it brush past. Luke had saved her life.
The realization came with tears as she’d looked over at him, the two of them lying on her living room floor. He’d mouthed the words. Or at least she thought he had, since the sound of the gunshot so close to her ear had made her think she’d gone deaf.
I love you.
And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her as if he would never let her go ever again.
Epilogue
There is nothing the community of Whitehorse loved more than a scandal—unless it was a scandal followed by talk of a wedding.
It took no time at all for everyone in the county and beyond to hear about what happened at Deputy Sheriff McCall Winchester’s cabin on the river.
Both McCall and Luke were considered heroes. It became clear that a lot of people hadn’t liked Sandy Sheridan, especially after it came out that she’d been running around with their husbands behind Grant’s back.
McCall had figured that was how Grant had ended up at her cabin. He’d been following Sandy, just as he’d been the other time she’d seen him, and was presumably aware of her transgressions. It was too bad, because McCall realized after the dust settled that Grant had loved Sandy or he would have killed her that night in the cabin—and not just wounded her.
How ironic that Sandy had passed up true love for what she thought she could have had with Trace Winchester.
The whole episode had shaken a lot of people, including McCall’s mother.
“I think I’m in love with Red,” Ruby had said a few days later. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take it slow. I just wanted you to know.”
McCall had been touched and had hugged her mother, hoping that she had finally
