An hour later, Megan studied the whiteboard in Luke’s office. It was a giant jigsaw puzzle of suspects and evidence. She knew the answers were there, but plucking out the right ones was hard. If there was any doubt someone was trying to prevent them from getting to the truth, that was laid to rest with today’s attack.
Nearby, Luke and the analyst, Greg, scanned her cell phone for spyware. Both of Luke’s cells—one business, one personal—had already been cleared. The two men chatted while they talked, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of Megan’s thoughts.
Who killed you, Franny? And why?
“This phone is clean too,” Greg announced, straightening his wire-rim glasses. “There’s no spy software on any of your devices.”
“Are you sure?” Luke rocked back on his heels. “I can’t believe this was a random attack.”
“How many people knew you were going riding?” Greg asked. “Is it possible someone on your staff alerted the shooter?”
“No. I suppose a worker could’ve come back and found the stalls empty, but that wouldn’t have told them where we were going to be. I have security on the farm, but it only extends to the fence line and doesn’t include the woods.”
The memory of Dan’s smirk flashed in Megan’s mind. His arrogance got under her skin, and he’d been so sure they wouldn’t find anything on the phones. She fingered her shirt. Could there be a GPS tracker in their clothes or…
She smacked her forehead. “Of course. I know how he tracked us.”
She spun on her heel and walked to the barn. Luke followed, as did Greg.
The horses, startled by the gunshots, had run straight home. They were nestled in their stalls and she patted Fiona on her way to the tack room.
“I haven’t been riding in Houston, but I went to the Livestock Show and Rodeo every year. Saddle theft is a serious problem.” Megan searched her saddle and quickly located the hidden tracker. “They’re designed to turn on when the saddle is moved and they provide GPS coordinates.”
Luke’s jaw tightened and his gaze narrowed. “So much for Dan’s theory that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Together, they searched the other saddles. The only ones with trackers were the three brought from June’s property.
Luke turned to Greg. “Can this be traced back to the owner?”
“Possibly. Let me run inside and do a quick search on the manufacturer.”
He left, and Luke prowled the tack room. His lips flattened into a hard line and his hands balled into fists.
“How long could those trackers have been on the saddles?” he asked.
“The battery can last for more than a month before needing to be recharged. It’s possible the killer initially put it for my aunt, but I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I. The message spray-painted on June’s barn wall was for our benefit. If you were worried someone had broken into the barn, you’d want to keep the saddles safe.”
“I’d bring them here, just like I did with Cinnamon.” She caught on to the train of his thought. “It was only a matter of time before I went riding, and naturally, I would use a saddle I was familiar with.”
He nodded. “You heard Dan. Poachers are often a problem in rural areas, which is what the shooter was counting on. He wanted to disguise our murders as a hunting accident gone wrong.”
Her mind spun, whirling with information she’d gathered about the case so far. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Luke, someone else connected to this case was killed in a similar way.”
He paused midstep, his eyes widening. “Franny’s boyfriend, Skeeter McIntyre.”
“Wow. Now Skeeter’s death could be a part of this.” Brent rubbed a hand over his bald head. His wedding ring winked in the fluorescent light. “Why is it every time I talk to you, this case gets weirder and weirder?”
Luke leaned against the hospital wall and sighed. Exhaustion bit into him. Across the hall, the door to June’s room was cocked open. Megan was arranging sunflowers in a vase, and she appeared to be having a conversation with her unconscious aunt. A phone rang at the nurse’s station.
“Trust me, I wish it was a lot easier,” Luke said. “What do you think? Sound similar?”
“Could be. Skeeter wasn’t shot in our county, but the next one over. From what I understand, he was hunting with a group of friends and was killed by a stray bullet. Skeeter wasn’t wearing a reflective vest at the time, and his friends were cleared of any wrongdoing. The investigators chalked it up to a hunting accident.”
It wasn’t exactly the same setup as the shooting today, but it was close enough to send chills down Luke’s spine.
Brent leaned a shoulder against the wall. “So what happens now? Are you going to compare the bullets and casings recovered from both scenes?”
“Yep. If we’re lucky, and the cases are connected, the shooter used the same gun.”
“Man, poor Megs. That must’ve been terrifying.” Brent sent him a knowing gaze. “For you too.”
Luke’s gaze drifted again toward June’s room. Megan was now perched on the edge of the bed, reading from the Bible, her silky hair hiding her exquisite features. This morning’s shooting cemented the killer would stop at nothing to silence her. It hurt to breathe when he thought about how close he’d come to losing her.
“He’s not going to stop until they’re dead,” Luke said, his worst fears clawing at his insides. “The only way to protect them is to solve this case.”
“I should’ve checked those saddles over. I didn’t even think—”
“There was no way for you to know, Brent. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He paused. “How’s your mom doing?”
Brent hadn’t been one of the responding deputies at the scene because he’d been at the oncologist with his mother.
He frowned. “She’s responding to the chemo, and they’re talking about surgery again now that the tumor has shrunk.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It is.” Brent sighed. “But the insurance company will fight it, I’m sure. They’ve got
