Luke came to a stop a safe distance away. “It’s not a good idea to mix a chainsaw with alcohol.”
“What’s it to you?”
He shrugged. “It would be nice if emergency services didn’t have to come out here because you cut your foot off.”
Chad laughed. “Ain’t happened yet.”
He set the glass down on the porch railing, revved up the saw, and chopped through the block of wood. Sawdust flew and Luke was forced to take a few steps back. The scar along Chad’s face caught the light. He’d been favored to win Nationals until his accident. The bull broke his femur and his arm, gave him a concussion severe enough to cause traumatic brain injury, and ruined Chad’s chances of the fame he so desperately craved.
He released the power button on the chainsaw, and the decibel level lowered as the motor drifted into idle.
“I was wondering how long it would take before you came around, Tatum. News travels fast in Cardin, and rumor has it you’re trying to get my sister’s murderer out of prison.”
“No, I’m trying to find out who attempted to kill June and Megan. Where were you this past Saturday from six in the morning till noon?”
The attack on Megan had happened around eight, but Luke wanted to make sure he covered a wider time frame.
Chad swirled the whiskey in his glass. “I was here.”
“What were you doing?”
“I can’t say I recall.” His lips spread into a slow grin. “The doctors told me the injury to my brain could make it hard to remember things.”
The little punk was getting a kick out of this. Luke’s fingers twitched. He abhorred violence, but his patience was thin with bullies and those that took enjoyment from others’ pain.
Chad lifted the whiskey glass and took a long drink. “Maybe you should ask my dad. He might remember better.” His smug smile widened, and he pointed to something behind Luke. “There he is now. You can ask him yourself.”
A four wheeler kicked up dust as it came to a screeching stop. Heath Dickerson climbed off. His snakeskin boots matched the giant belt buckle at his waist, and the bolo around his neck swayed with every step.
He glared at his son, who was still holding the alcohol and the idling chainsaw. “Turn that contraption off.”
Chad obliged and promptly drained the last of his drink. The ice clicked against the glass.
Heath swung his glare to Luke. Crow’s-feet gathered at the edges of his eyes and grooved lines bracketed his hard mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s questioning me about June’s accident and the fire at her house.” Chad smirked. “Apparently, I’m a suspect.”
“My son had nothing to do with that. He was with me.” Heath’s jaw tightened. “You have some nerve, Tatum. Dan called and said you might be coming by, pointing fingers and asking us questions.”
Luke kept his tone casual, even as his stomach sank to his feet. His worst suspicions about the chief deputy were coming to fruition. “I’m not pointing fingers. I’m running an investigation.”
“What a load of baloney.” Chad rolled his eyes. “Megan’s got you running around doing her dirty work. Is the bedroom action really that good, Tatum?”
Luke stiffened. It took every ounce of his willpower and training to keep from crossing the yard and punching Chad in the face.
“Son, get in the house,” Heath snapped. “Now.”
The younger Dickerson swaggered up the porch steps. The screen door slammed shut, but Luke could still feel the weight of Chad’s gaze on the back of his neck.
“If you need to talk to Chad or any of our employees”—Heath reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card—“call our attorney and set up an appointment.”
“My investigation would go a lot faster if I had your cooperation.”
“I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday, Tatum. I know exactly where you’re going with this, and you aren’t going to pin these attacks on my son. Nor am I going to allow you to sow the seeds of doubt about Wade’s guilt.”
Heath bared his teeth and his expression grew dark. “That man murdered my little girl, and while there is breath still left in my body, he’s staying in prison to rot.”
Luke’s pulse kicked up a notch. Did he suspect the wrong Dickerson? Chad had made threats against Megan and June in the past, but Heath had his own axe to grind with the Hunt family.
Was it possible they were working together?
Right now, he didn’t have enough evidence either way. He plucked the business card from Heath’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I know you plan on taking over your stepfather’s ranch and making Cardin your permanent home. It’ll be hard to find another job in this county should you ruin the good thing you have going here.” The older man stepped closer, dropping his voice. “Don’t risk your career, Luke. She ain’t worth it.”
Like father, like son. Chad had tried the same tactic in the sheriff’s office and the innuendo was getting on Luke’s last nerve. “I’m a state officer. I’d be careful about making threats.”
The corners of Heath’s mouth lifted, but he didn’t back up. “I’m merely giving you a friendly piece of advice. You’d be wise to heed it.”
Luke met his gaze. “Did you know Franny was considering marrying Skeeter?”
The question was designed to catch Heath off guard, but not one flicker of surprise flashed in his expression.
“That’s a lie.” Heath’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “My daughter made a mistake by getting involved with that nobody, but she saw the error of her ways. I won’t listen to anyone speak badly of her.”
“I mean no disrespect.”
“No, I suppose you don’t.” Heath clapped a hand on his shoulder, the force of the slap a little too hard
