“And you think Quentin was working with someone in the sheriff’s department?”
“Yep. It adds a layer of protection if you have someone acting a go-between. Say a deputy wants to steal cocaine and sell it. He doesn’t want to run the risk the buyers will recognize him as a law enforcement officer. So he arranges for someone else to be the seller, in this case Quentin.”
Her friend nodded. “That makes sense.”
“We were focusing on the wrong motive.” Megan blew out a breath. “Franny worked in the evidence room, and I suspect, she uncovered the thefts and was killed because of it.”
Grace rested her head on her hand. “If that’s true, why didn’t Franny tell Sheriff Franklin what was going on?”
“That’s a good question. He claims he had no idea, but he could be lying. Sheriff Franklin was at Franny’s party on the night of her murder. He only stayed ten minutes or so, but that’s all the time it would’ve taken to steal Wade’s cell phone and hide it in the couch cushions.”
“So, it could be anyone in the department. How much money are we talking about, do you think?”
“A lot. Luke told me last month the sheriff’s deputies confiscated a shipment of cocaine on its way north. The street value exceeded fifty thousand dollars.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
Grace drummed her nails on the desk. “And what about Skeeter?”
“My guess is that Franny told him about the thefts and the killer got wind of it.” Megan rolled her head to stretch out the tight muscles in her neck. “I don’t know if Skeeter ever talked to June because her notes were destroyed in the fire.”
“Do you still want me to run the Dickersons’ financials?”
“Yes. Quentin participated in calf-roping and Chad was a bull rider. Maybe there’s a link there. I don’t want to rule out a thread of investigation yet, even if it’s going onto the back burner.”
Their forensic accountant was expensive and could work a lot quicker than the Texas Rangers. He didn’t need warrants or probable cause to dig, and he had plenty of connections to countries where off-shore accounts were common.
“How’s June doing?” Grace asked.
“Same. I just came from visiting her a little while ago. She’s strong and the doctors are still hopeful but cautious.” Megan ran her finger over the edge of the Bible on her nightstand. “Your present came today. Thank you.”
Her friend smiled. “Keep searching for the truth, Megs, but also keep up with those prayers. He’s listening.”
They talked for a few more minutes, and after Megan hung up, she reached for the Bible. It had a delicate woven string attached as a bookmark. Opening to the page, she smiled. Grace had flagged Ecclesiastes 3:17, and Megan read it out loud.
“God will bring into judgment both the righteous and the wicked, for there will be a time for every activity, a time to judge every deed.”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Lord, I don’t know why things have to be this way. Why did Wade have to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit? Why did June have to be injured? Why did Franny have to die? It hurts, God. It makes me angry. But I still surrender to Your will. I know things must happen in their own time. I’ll keep looking for the truth, so I hope You will use me as Your instrument, but I won’t fight You anymore. I’ll have faith.
A peace enveloped her, settling in her spirit like a warm, comforting blanket. For the first time, Megan sensed things would be okay. She set the Bible back down on the nightstand and went to search for Luke.
He was in the living room. The fireplace was lit, providing warmth. Her slippers didn’t make a sound against the rug in the hall and she paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Luke sat on the couch, his brow furrowed in thought, writing on a pad of paper. Bristles shadowed his strong jaw, and the firelight played with the edges of his chiseled features. Jax was sprawled at his feet, long ears flopped on the rug, and Archimedes was tucked up against his side.
“You all look very cozy together,” she remarked. “Did your parents go to bed?”
“Yep. You just missed them, but Mom left you some hot chocolate.”
He jerked his chin to the mug on the table. Mini-marshmallows floated on top of the dark liquid.
“It’s a new recipe. She wants a report tomorrow morning on whether this one is better than yesterday’s. Hank and I both gave our opinion, but Mom wasn’t interested.”
“Hank gave his in grunts, and yours was probably ‘good’ with a shoulder shrug.”
His mouth quirked. “How did you know?”
They laughed, and Megan scooped up the still-warm hot chocolate before settling in on the couch. Jax opened one eye, and she patted him in greeting. He sighed and went back to sleep.
“What are you working on?” she asked, sipping her drink. It was rich and smooth, and the sweet chocolate mingled with the faint scent of cinnamon. Definitely better than yesterday’s.
“I’m making notes about the case using the potential new angle.” He passed the notepad over to her. “If someone is stealing from the evidence room, we need to move fast. The thief has had a lot of time to clean up his tracks. Based on everything else, the perpetrator is organized and methodical. I don’t expect this to be any different.”
She nodded and scanned the paper. He’d made notations next to
