Luke swallowed back his frustration. “A deputy from the Medina County Sheriff’s Office stopped by last week. Did he speak to you?”
“No, but there’s a neighbor who comes twice a week for a few hours. Just to give me a chance to run errands. My husband is deployed overseas, so I don’t have any help.”
The baby in her arms started crying, stretching chubby arms out in anger. Ruby bounced the infant and half waved for them to follow her.
“Come into the kitchen. I have to get dinner ready. I didn’t live here with my cousin and Granny at the time of his death, but I can try to answer your questions.”
The kitchen was spacious but in desperate need of renovation. Ruby tried to set the baby down in a swing, but the infant only screamed louder.
Ruby sighed. “How does she always know when I’m about to cook?”
“May I?” Megan asked, stepping forward. “I’m sure a moment’s peace and two free hands isn’t something you get often.”
“Would you? Thank you so much. I’m trying to keep Vivian on a consistent schedule, but it’s not easy between taking care of the baby and Granny.”
“I bet not.”
Megan scooped the infant into her arms and murmured sweet words. Luke’s gaze lingered on them. For half a second, he let himself imagine it was their child she was holding. The idea should have terrified him, but the memory of their kiss from earlier in the day melded with the image and his heart galloped.
“I suppose you’ve done a background check on Quentin and saw he was arrested in the past for drugs,” Ruby said, pulling a package of ground beef out of the refrigerator. “That’s a big part of the reason why the investigators were convinced he’d overdosed.”
Her words brought reality crashing down on Luke, along with every reason why a relationship with Megan wouldn’t work. He’d had a hand in putting her brother in prison. Whatever feelings lingered between them could only be temporary. There was no way to survive the hurt long-term.
Luke shifted his focus back to where it belonged: on the case.
“Why was your grandmother convinced otherwise?” he asked.
“Because Quentin was clean and regularly attending NA meetings.” Her lips flattened into a thin line. “He was also scared. Granny told me he’d gotten messed up with some nasty people. She begged him to go to the police, but he refused.”
“Do you know why?”
“Anything I tell you would be a guess, but my impression was Quentin was scared of the cops.” She gripped the frying pan handle and stirred the meat as it cooked. “I’m not sure if that’s because he did something illegal he didn’t want them to know about or if it was for a different reason.”
Luke weighed the information. If Quentin had been involved in selling drugs, it would make sense he’d be nervous about going to the police.
“What did June uncover?” he asked.
Ruby opened a cabinet and pulled down a can of tomato sauce. “I don’t know a lot. She and Granny insisted on keeping the investigation very quiet. June told me the less I knew, the better.”
Luke stiffened, and his gaze shot to the baby before settling back on Ruby. What had June uncovered that made her so scared? Who was Quentin working with?
Megan rocked the baby. “Did my aunt come by here last Friday?”
Ruby nodded. “In the afternoon. I’d say around two thirty or so, but she didn’t stay long. She chatted a couple of minutes with Granny and left.”
It took about twenty minutes to drive from Cardin to the Perdues’ ranch. If June only stayed a few minutes, that still left an hour and a half of her time unaccounted for. So where else did she go?
Ruby paused in her stirring. “Wait, there was something else. June went in Quentin’s room before she left.”
Luke leaned forward. “Quentin’s room is still intact?”
“Oh yeah.” She pointed to an area off the kitchen with her ladle. “It’s over there. Granny insisted we keep it as-is.”
“Mind if we look around?”
“No, go ahead.” She took the baby from Megan. “Thanks for holding her.”
The bedroom wasn’t large. A twin bed sat underneath a window covered in plaid curtains. The closet was cocked open, neatly hung shirts visible, shoes lined up in a row on the floor. Photos of Quentin lined the bureau. His shaggy hair hung in his eyes, and he favored jeans and a western-style shirt.
“He’s won awards for calf roping.” Megan pointed out the belt buckles intermingled with the pictures. “Wonder if he ran in the same rodeo circles with Chad?”
“It’s a possibility.”
On the wall, hung as if they were decorations, were various guns. An inscription on the cylinder of a revolver caught Luke’s eye. He frowned.
Megan stepped closer, the scent of honeysuckle following. “What is it?”
“That gun…” He pointed to it. “I’ve seen it before. It was confiscated from a parolee along with a bunch of others.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” His chest was tight. It hurt to breathe. “That inscription is unique, and the original owner is deceased without any living relatives.”
She frowned. “But…if it was confiscated…and not returned to the original owner, that means—”
“It should be in the Medina County Sheriff Department’s evidence room. So how did Quentin get his hands on it?”
Megan lifted her cell phone, angling it to eliminate the glare from the lamp on the nightstand. She stifled a yawn. It’d been a long day.
“After we found the gun in Quentin’s room, Luke called his superior,” she said. “They’ll audit the evidence room at the sheriff’s department to see if things are being stolen.”
On screen, Grace tucked a braid behind her ear. “Doesn’t the sheriff’s evidence room have cameras?”
Megan leaned against the headboard. “Nope. It’s a small department with minimal resources and, like many rural areas,
